My Past Will Always Catch Up
by Allanasha ke kiri
Summary: After the deaths of both Ron and Hermione in their seventh year, Harry ran. The pressure was too much; they thought he'd be back, after he realized they needed him. But he never returned just ran and hid in the one place he was sure no one would lookSLASH
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** **_My Past Will Always Catch up_**

**Author:** Allanasha Ke Kiri

**Summary:** After the deaths of both Ron and Hermione in their seventh year, Harry ran. The pressure was too much; they thought he'd be back, after he realized they needed him. But he never returned, just ran and hid in the one place he was sure no one would look for him.

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Sexual content**

**Prologue**

They were killed on a raid. Dumbledore had assured their safety; said they would be fine. There wasn't supposed to be anyone there. Empty, he said.

It wasn't, not by any stretch of the imagination. Seven Death Eaters had been there, along with _him_. They killed our people, ten of them. Lost three of theirs. But it didn't matter; they'd killed my friends. Ron and Hermione.

He apologized; said his source had told him it would be empty that night. Dumbledore should find a new source, was all I'd thought. I was angry. I think something blew up … I don't remember anymore, I think I've been pushing it from my mind for years. I don't want to remember it. I want nothing to do with them, or their war.

They took them from me, both Dumbledore and Voldemort. Dumbledore sent them out, and Voldemort killed them, personally. I didn't care anymore, for either of them, for either side. I just stopped caring. And what good is a savior, if he doesn't care anymore? So I left.

I'm sure they think I'll be back, or they did. Perhaps they've stopped hoping these five years I've been gone. Never once have I felt the urge to go back or to see what's become of them.

I do wonder, occasionally, if someone's won; if Dumbledore managed to over power him (which is unlikely if the prophecy is correct), or if Voldemort has overthrown everything and taken over. But I don't dwell on it. It's no longer my concern.

I turned my back on them and ran, ran to where they will never find me. And if, by some miracle, they do, I will just run again. The world is a large place. I can easily become lost again.

"Raven, you're up."

I glance up from my mirror to nod once, showing that I heard. I glance back, blinking at my reflection. My scar is covered with makeup; after all, it's really the only way for people to tell who I am. Without it, they don't have a clue. I am safely hidden from anyone and anything.

I'm still small and slight, but as I stand there is now an obvious grace to my moving. It's the result of years of practice. First it was dueling, now it's dancing. It's my job to give them what they want.

Yes, I, Harry James Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, am a dancer, and I like my world.

I am never going back.

* * *

Yes, it's a new story. No it's not one of the ones that was voted on. I lost them when my computer crashed. No, I haven't given up on those. They're still lingering at the back of my brain for when my muse decides to stop pouting over that fact. No, I haven't abandoned AITMWI

Don't expect frequent updates. I have to be in a certain mood to be able to write this way, and for what I'm planning on it going ... well, for the general idea of it anyway. It will be dark, at least that's the plan.

Chapter one will be up later today.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: _My Past Will Always Catch up_**

**Author:** Allanasha Ke Kiri

**Summary**: After the deaths of both Ron and Hermione in their seventh year, Harry ran. The pressure was too much; they thought he'd be back, after he realized they needed him. But he never returned, just ran and hid in the one place he was sure no one would look for him.

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Sexual content**

**Chapter 1**

My music is somewhat different than my colleagues'. My 'act' is somewhat different as well. They dance, they strip, they tease. I just dance. But my act is just as worthy as theirs. They reveal, I hide. While they tease the customers with the flesh, I tease their imaginations. What they could have, if I willed it.

My music is not loud or fast, it's not melodic either. It's erotic, perfectly made and timed for my acts. The song tonight started out soft, and I was already onstage when the lights came up, lain out as if asleep. As the music rose in pitch, so to did I begin to rise.

There was something in the air as I danced; something besides the usual lust. It was something that I hadn't felt for years. Magic. I didn't let my face show any recognition, or that anything was wrong at all. I just danced. It happened occasionally. A witch, or wizard would show up, interested in the Potter look-a-like, but when I turned them down, they left me alone. I don't take customers, unlike some of my co-workers.

This magic had a different feel to it though, it was familiar, something none of the others had been. I knew him (her) then. Who though? Not that they'd have any chance of guessing who I really was. I act nothing like their savior of old.

These thoughts spun around my head as I found the poll standing in the middle of the stage and grabbed hold, allowing my body to grind against the metal.

My eyes flashed out amongst the crowd. I couldn't see them, not really. They were nothing but shadows to me. But they could see me, see my eyes, and they could think that my looks were just for them. They loved it, the looks I gave them, as if I wanted them to fuck me right then, right on the stage … or as if I wanted to fuck them. It all really depended on their preference.

The music changes, creating a more ... animalistic feeling, one that brings with it the urge to prowl. I slide down the poll, leaning to the side to start crawling farther down the stage, closer to the audience. I've been told I look predatory when I do this, that it's like one of the large cats is constrained within my skin. I can only shrug in response. Years of training (first with the Dursley's, then quidditch, and dueling) had trained my muscles from an early age, and now they easily did what I wanted them to. I suppose it also helped that I'm a panther animagus.

Upon reaching the edge of the stage, I sit up, sliding my hands back along the stage, then up my thighs, allowing them to brush along either side of my cock. They hesitated there, for only a moment, as the music paused, then continued up my torso when it started once more. My tongue darted out, catching my lip and pulling it into my mouth as my hands brushed over my chest and up over my neck.

A deep breath in and my hands had risen into the air. I rose up onto my knees; eyes closing, head tilting back as if in ecstasy. I could feel it around me, in the air. The lust, the need, the desire. It was all for me, because of me. The power that I felt was intoxicating.

Slowly, the music slowed, the volume lowering, and as it did so, I gently drifted back, until my back was on the stage, my legs twisted back on either side of me, the backs of my hands brushed against the stage where they rested above my head.

Gradually, the music rose, lowering after a moment, and my torso rose with it. My hands never left the stage, and my head only rarely. I knew what it looked like from the audience; that was point. I was meant to be a fantasy, a living, breathing fantasy. Something they could see, but not touch. Never touch. That wasn't allowed.

I suppose I'm not really much of a dancer. I don't do much dancing, not really. What I really do is have sex on stage. Just not with any of them, and not with any being that can be seen. But I do it, and the stench of their lust follows me back stage and well into the back.

A couple of the other dancers had seen my act. Their eyes were ranking over my slight figure. They'd done it before. It wasn't anything I wasn't used to. It didn't matter.

Sliding into the chair in front of my mirror, I let my gaze settle on my reflection. My hair had grown, if only slightly. It fell to just below my chin. Not as messy, but waved and curly. I was still small, petite (even if that's what a girl would be called). It was the reason I never allowed my hair to grow longer than it was. Any more and I would probably be mistaken for a girl. I didn't want that. Though I might consider it if I ever have to hide again.

The dancers (strippers) move around behind me, each one preparing for their act, but my eyes never leave my reflection. My eyes haven't changed either. They're still the same brilliant green my mother had had. Though they're dimmer, blank, uncaring. I've been told that they light up when I'm on stage, that they're filled with a primal urge that gets right to their groin, but it never happens when I look at them. They're always blank, uncaring.

It's as if they died when Ron and Hermione had, as if they had been my emotions. Perhaps they had. It had been long enough since then that I should have gotten over it. Perhaps they had been the only reason I'd fought. Wouldn't that be ironic? Their savior had had saviors of his own.

A smirk twisted my lips before quickly fading. It didn't matter, not anymore. Glancing off to the side, I look at my bag and slowly reach down, pulling it into my lap. My wand is inside it, and my eyes slide closed as my fingers brush along the smooth wood. I never use it, never had any need to, and I didn't want to draw attention to myself with unneeded magic.

I longed to, sometimes, just to feel that familiar rush as my magic channels itself down through my wand. But I don't, because I know that if I'm found, I'll have to run. And it will be even harder to hide a second time.

"Raven."

I glance up at my name, blinking at the boss.

"Go home, Raven, you're done for the night."

I nod, smoothly standing from my chair. I ignore the look he gives me, one of pity and sympathy. He thinks I'm hurt, that I was broken by someone long ago, that that's why I'm here, doing this. Perhaps he's right, I don't know. But it doesn't bother me.

I swing my bag over my shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Jonathan."

He nodded with a sigh. He tells us to call him Jon. I don't see the point. It's just another excuse to get attached. And I don't want to.

The magic users are getting more and more frequent. They either suspect that I'm their missing savior (or enemy) or they're desperate. Either way, I probably wont be staying for much longer. I don't want to get attached to anyone. It'll only make it hurt when I do leave.

I make my way out the back door exit the alley next to the club. Out on the main street, I nod to the bouncer, who nods back, and make my way out into the night, relishing the feel of it closing around me. I'd always enjoyed it. It was the only time when the Dursley's left me alone, when they were snug in their beds and I was locked in my cupboard, and later my room. It was the only time when people didn't stare at me, or whisper behind my back, when the hallways at Hogwarts were silent and free of noisy children. Then again, I suppose I was one of them, once upon a time. It feels like millennia ago.

A noise off to my side has me tensing up, turning wary eyes in the direction it had come from. At first, I see nothing but shadows. But, just as I begin to write it off as a stray cat, there's movement, a shadow detaching itself from the wall. I take a step back, debating between running, or going for my wand.

I don't have time to decide.

"Stupefy," The voice catches me by surprise, from behind me. And the next thing I know is darkness.

* * *

I tried to get this longer. But it's kind of hard to do when most of it is inner thoughts. Chapters will get longer as the story progresses, that I do promise. As a general rule, I try to get all my chapters (with the exception of the prologue) over 2000 words. I don't always manage it, but I try nonetheless.

As I stated last chapter, don't expect frequent updates. I'd written the prologue months ago (and then promptly forgot about it). It's pure luck that I happened to be in just the write mood to write this and put it up. This is going to be something I write just when inspiration hits, and I am so not going to force it because there's no way I could get it to do anything if I do.

Also, I've never attempted anything like this before. Meaning, first person, or this dark. So if anyone has any suggestions, feel free to give them. I'm always happy to receive constructive criticism.

Allanasha Ke Kiri

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **_**My Past Will Always Catch up**_

**Author: **Allanasha Ke Kiri

**Summary:** After the deaths of both Ron and Hermione in their seventh year, Harry ran. The pressure was too much; they thought he'd be back, after he realized they needed him. But he never returned, just ran and hid in the one place he was sure no one would look for him.

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Sexual content**

**Chapter 2**

Consciousness does not come smoothly. It is not a gentle transition. When I wake, my eyes snap open and I feel my body jerking into a seated position. My eyes, calm in a way I shouldn't be, flickered around my surroundings. I could not see much. It was much too dark for that. There was no light, no window. I didn't know how big my cell was, for what else could it be, or in which direction the door (or bars) would be. I had no choice but to sit and wait.

Unable to just keep myself still, my hands slid along the ground near me, searching. Perhaps they had left me my bag; my wand. If that was the case, I could get a light, escape … run, hide again. I still wanted nothing to do with the war, for either side.

I didn't know who it was that found me, or why I still breathed. Perhaps they thought me a muggle. If that were the case, then I knew who it was who had found me, and had no hope that I would be amongst the living for long.

My eyes closed, and there was not much difference from when they were open. My bag was missing, not that I'd had much hope for it. No, not matter the side; they would not have allowed me the bag. Too much of a possibility that there was a weapon within it.

I'd expected this day to be met with fear, worry, but all I felt was relief. I couldn't explain it, but it was what I felt. After so long running and hiding … was it possible I had wanted to be found, caught? It didn't seem likely. Perhaps they would come for me soon, and I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. I felt what I felt, though it was a strange feeling for my last few moments.

My hand rose to my forehead, happy to feel that my scar was still covered. If they thought me a muggle, even one that looked like Harry Potter, I would die a muggle. If they knew me for who I'd been, my torment would be so much more.

I do not know how long I was kept there, in the dark. No food was brought, no light was given. I had nothing with which to pass the time, but it couldn't have been more than a day, for I felt no urge to sleep. When the door finally opened, my eyes were forced shut from the sudden flow of light. My hand rose, trying in vain to block out some of it.

I heard voices, but they were too low to be understood. By the time my eyes were growing accustomed, the two figures in the doorway were silent, staring at me. I recognized neither of them. Not that I could see anything but shadows. The light was behind them, hiding everything. We were all silent for a long while, all of us probably waiting for the other to say something. I gazed up at them from my seated position, wondering if worry shined in my eyes. A normal person would be after all, but mine never showed my emotions.

"Where am I?" I ask, finally, my voice even. I still cannot manage to sound something I am not.

"Get up," the one to the right demanded, pointing his wand at me.

I blink at it, frowning, as if I don't understand the significance. If they haven't checked my bag, they don't know I'm a wizard. Smoothly, I rise to my feet. Dueling had not given me that grace; that had been my dancing. The men looked startled, as if they had expected me to scramble inelegantly. They had obviously never been to the club. There was nothing inelegant about me these days. I'd made sure of that. No matter where I was, I oozed sex. I wasn't even sure I could turn it off anymore.

"Get over here," the first told me.

I didn't obey immediately, giving myself time to brush off my hands and smooth out my clothing. He'd begun to growl out his order again just as I began to move. Slow, purposeful, graceful. My walk was as it always was, or had been for the past few years; meant to bring their thoughts to something else. Something savage and primitive.

The second grabbed my arm as soon as I got within range, making my arm twitch at the unwelcome touch. The man chuckled jerking me out of the cell, obviously hoping to catch me off balance. It didn't work. While my pace was forced to be quicker than what it normally was, I didn't stumble. I stopped when I could, and turned, raising an eyebrow at him. He didn't look happy with me.

I still didn't recognize him, not passed the significant 'he's a Death Eater'. And I knew I was going to die.

They dragged me up the corridor, not allowing me time to look around. Not that I expected to recognize my surroundings. Despite their many attempts, I never once lost my footing, or stumbled. This only seemed to enrage them further, but I saw no point in purposefully tripping just to make them happy.

We passed few on our way up. I'd been kept underground, it would seem, not that I had thought it was anything else. Some I recognized, most I didn't. They only confirmed what I'd already known. Death Eaters. I was going to die this day. How only depended on whether I could convince them I was just a normal muggle.

I knew we were nearing our destination when my scar burned, though nothing showed on my face. I couldn't allow it.

The doors opened before we got there and I was dragged through the doors. I heard them close behind me. Trapped. I stumbled when shoved, this time my captor released me, allowing me to fall to my knees, my hands catching me so I wouldn't go any farther. I held myself there for a moment, breathing deep before looking up. Directly in front of me, on his throne, was Voldemort.

His looks had changed over the years. His hair had grown back, lips had filled out. Even his nose seemed to have returned, if only slightly. There wasn't a lot to it, but he did look more human than the last time I'd laid eyes on him. That was a relief, I wouldn't have to pretend to be horrified.

I pulled back, brushing my hands on my pants.

"Harry Potter, so good of you to join us," he hissed, red eyes narrowing at me.

I blinked, a frown pulling at my lips. Without replying, I pushed myself up to my feet, once again smoothing out my clothes.

"The name's Raven," I said, calmly, my eyes taking in the rest of the room. There were several others present. Besides the two I didn't recognize, I knew them all. They were the ones I'd fought against during my youth.

It feels wrong to say that 'during my youth'. I'm not that old right now, just 22, definitely too young to be saying things like that. But it was the truth.

My eyes revealed nothing as I glanced them over, once again turning my gaze to Voldemort, who was frowning at me. He stood from his throne (not so smoothly as I had, I noted with a certain amount of smugness), and stepped towards me. He still seemed to glide over the ground, something I'd learned to do not long ago.

"Yes, I've been told of that. An interesting spot you hid yourself in."

My frown deepened. "I didn't hide myself anywhere."

A lie, I knew, but my voice didn't betray me. I'd gotten better at it over the years.

Voldemort continued to approach, stopping just in front of me. I refused to flinch as the pain in my scar grew.

"Come now, Harry," Voldemort all but purred, I don't think I'd ever heard him purr before. "You can't fool us."

I frowned, allowing myself to take a step back, something I (as Harry) would never have allowed myself to do. But I wasn't Harry here, and I didn't have to foolishly prove I was worth anything. I didn't care.

Voldemort's arm shot out, gripping mine, thankfully over cloth, and drawing me closer to him once more. My frown deepened, my eyes flashing with my displeasure.

"Are you afraid, Potter?" he hissed, obviously enjoying the thought.

"No," I answered, voice calm. "Disgusted and wanting to get back to work."

The Dark Lord sneered, shoving me away from him. "_Crucio!"_

I stumbled backwards and went down, a scream on my lips. I didn't even try to fight it as the pain washed over me. That was something Harry would do, and I was just a muggle. My body arched, completely of its own accord. Perhaps it was trying to alleviate some of the pain. It didn't work. It never did. Finally, the spell was raised, and I was left on the ground, breathing heavily. I was still. Still and silent on the ground, waiting, trying to catch my breath and hoping my shaking would stop soon.

I heard, rather than saw, Voldemort circle me. I felt his eyes on me, dissecting me, trying to figure out why I didn't fight.

My tongue darted out, licking my bottom lip. My eyes didn't have to open to know that every eye was on me.

"What … the fuck, was that?" I ask, my eyes finally opening, landing on Voldemort. I didn't try to put any fear in my eyes. It wouldn't work; at least, I didn't think it would work. They were always blank, except for when I'm on stage. And somehow, I didn't think that look would serve me well here.

The man's eyes were thoughtful as he eyed me. I shifted, rising myself up onto one elbow, still staring into the man's red eyes. He let me, without a word. And then … then I felt it, the familiar brush of his mind against mine. I didn't put up any defense, I couldn't. In the distance, I heard myself scream as he shoved his way in.

_--_

"_What's you're name, kid?" he asked, eying me._

"… _Raven."_

_He leaned forward, placing his hands on the table before him. "Well, Raven, I don't normally hire someone so young. What makes you think you can cut it?"_

_Sitting in front of his desk, I shrugged. "It's easier to show than to tell," The voice was calm, uncaring._

_--_

"_Just once," The man whispered, voice slurred. "I'd give you a fortune to have you under me, Raven."_

"_I don't take customers."_

_--_

"_What's your name?" The voice was gentle, as she placed a hand over my head._

_I shrugged, not answering._

_--_

"_What about Raven? It's not much, but it's something to call you."_

_I shrugged. "Alright."_

_The woman smiled at me, eyes lighting up. _

_--_

"_She's dead, son."_

"_No. She can't be," I whispered, almost brokenly. _

"_You her kid?"_

_I shook my head. "No … Just someone she took care of."_

"_I'm sorry."_

_I shrugged, eyes blanking._

--

Finally, the images stopped, leaving me to fall back, attempting to stop the pain in my head. He'd dug through every memory of the past five years, but hadn't found anything else. Distantly, I was relieved I'd hidden them well enough.

His hand was in my hair, jerking my head back. I could do nothing but stare up at him as his hand rose and calmly wiped the make-up from my scar. This time, I couldn't help the hiss of pain as his flesh touched mine.

I was done for.

As soon as Voldemort released me, I turned my head away, holding a hand to it. I'd forgotten just how much it hurt to have him touch me. I expected another _crucio_, or something equally as bad, something designed to make me scream, but nothing came. And after a moment, I found my head rising, eyes narrowed, glancing back up at Voldemort.

He still looked at me thoughtfully, a scheming look just behind that.

"You don't remember, do you?" His voice was back to a purr, one that had my eyes narrowing at him farther. "You don't."

His lips twisted into a smirk as he rose, sweeping away from me. I watched him go a moment before pushing myself back up into a seated position, debating the merits of standing again. While it would give me a little more dignity, it would just be a farther distance for me to fall when I got cursed.

"Stand up, Harry," he said, his tone different than before, though I couldn't quite understand it.

My lips pulled down into a frown, but after a moment of silence, during which Voldemort stared at me, I stood. He blinked, surprise flickering through his eyes as I literally flowed into a standing position. I'd done it last time, but this one seemed to get a greater reaction. I'd just been crucio'd, had my mind ripped through, and been put through his painful touch, they hadn't expected me to be able to do it again. They didn't expect me to have a high pain tolerance.

Then, his lips pulled into an approving smile, one I'm sure every obedient little Death Eater rolled over just to see. Lucky me, I got it just from standing up … oh dear, I think I'm being sarcastic.

"It would appear," Voldemort said, turning from me to look at his followers. "That our Harry-"

_Our Harry?_ I couldn't help but think. _Since when am I your Harry?_ The thought amused me, for some strange reason. I noticed that several of the Death Eaters looked confused as well.

"Didn't run away, didn't run from his lord's displeasure-"

_The fuck?_

"He simply forgot." He turned back to me. "Though one must wonder how it is he forgot."

I just blinked at him. He approached me again, reaching out a hand to touch me, but this time I felt very justified in stepping back. I had no desire to feel that burning pain again, and I highly doubt any muggle … or amnesiac wizard (as it seemed I'd suddenly become) would feel any different.

* * *

...

Right, so I tell you not to expect frequent updates, then I give you another chapter within a week of the prologue and the first chapter. *sighs* It would seem that my muse has decided it likes this. It wants to right it, and I'm doing my darndest to stay in the right frame of mind to do justice to the plot ... or at least the tone I've created.

Question:

Would people like to see someting other that Harry's POV? Like third person from someone else or something? I'm not sure if I can do a first person for someone else, but I can try if someone wants it. Or would you rather everything just be in Harry's first person POV?

Allanasha Ke Kiri


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **_**My Past Will Always Catch up**_

**Author: **Allanasha Ke Kiri

**Summary:** After the deaths of both Ron and Hermione in their seventh year, Harry ran. The pressure was too much; they thought he'd be back, after he realized they needed him. But he never returned, just ran and hid in the one place he was sure no one would look for him.

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Sexual content**

**Chapter 3**

I only retreat two steps, not really that great of a distance, but I do it nonetheless. His smile this time is indulgent. I find I'd much prefer something else. I don't like him smiling at me.

"Aren't you curious … Raven, about what I've done so far?" he asked. "Why I continue to call you a different name?"

I blink at him, my mind quickly running through my options. He obviously thinks I've forgotten. He's obviously trying to play with that. If I reveal that I remember, well, I'm as good as dead. Not that I would, I'd been playing amnesiac for years now. It was easier than dealing with questions about his past. No one asked if you didn't have one.

"Harry?"

The voice drags my attention back to him, and I find myself giving a single nod. I didn't even think about it. I would play along until I had a better option.

"Yeah," I say. "I'm curious." My voice is smooth, as articulate as any pureblood's. They, the Death Eater's seem surprised. Then again, I haven't really spoken much since arriving. Just a few words here and there, and most of it when I was in pain.

"You were with us before you left," Voldemort told me. "One of my number, my most loyal."

_The fuck I was_, my mind shouts, but my lips stay firmly shut. A glance over to the Death Eater's reveal that they aren't as happy with their lord's new direction. It doesn't matter though, because I can see some very serious holes in Voldemort's logic.

"And that … thing you did, when I first arrived?" My hand made a lazy wave towards where he'd first Crucio'd me. "Doesn't seem like something you'd do to a 'most loyal'" My voice was a drawl, obviously disbelieving, vaguely sarcastic. I should really get a hold of myself. It's not like me. Not anymore.

Voldemort chuckled. A laughing Dark Lord is never a good thing, especially not when it's directed at me, but I wasn't supposed to know this, and he knew I wasn't supposed to know this. My eyes remained on him, calm, blank, uncaring.

"We thought you'd ran, my dear boy."

That phrase nearly brings a flinch, but it never comes. 'My dear boy,' was Dumbledore's phrase for me, something he'd called me in the past, before I'd ran.

My eyebrow rose, an elegant imitation of the one I'd seen Lucius Malfoy give. They obviously saw that I wasn't impressed.

"I would hardly say I'm a boy, much less yours," I reply. I almost want to say his name, but I'm not supposed to know him, and he hasn't told me his name yet.

This caused the Dark Lord to chuckle again. "No, you are not."

I didn't particularly like the tone of his voice as he said that. I'd heard it before, mostly in the form of propositions. I just blink at him, feeling my eyebrow arch once agian. This is probably not the best way to go about things, but I was a Gryffindor, and that will always be part of who I am; whether I like it or not.

"And why would I run?" I find myself asking, voice still sarcastic, laced heavily with my disbelief. "If I was so _loyal_," a vague distaste makes its way into my voice and I notice Voldemort's eyes narrowing, I'll have to be more careful how I say things. "Then why would I run? Why would you think I ran?"

Voldemort looked at me, silent, as if debating something. "You failed your mission," he said, finally, a faint pleased look crossing his features. He obviously thought he was doing well.

I gave a slow nod. "You know," I say, my voice almost conversational, my eyes gazing around the room. "This isn't the first time people have claimed to be from my past, claimed that they remember me, given me strange names in hopes that I'll buy their crap. I'll tell you the same thing I tell them. Unless you have proof, I don't give a fuck."

A Death Eater coughed, whether in amusement, or horror I'm unsure of. All I do know is that Voldemort won't be able to get that proof. I was never sided with him. In fact, the only proof he could give would tell me that I was _against_ him.

I watched as Voldemort's hand clenched. I'd pissed him off, great. My arms rested lightly on my hips as he fingered his wand.

"_Crucio"_ I was ready for it this time, and allowed every instinct to take over as I dropped and rolled to the side, easily missing the spell. Once in my new position, I allowed myself to stop and blink, as if stunned at what I'd just done.

Voldemort eyed me and I pulled myself into a standing position once more.

"I'm a dancer," I told him, as if covering something I hadn't known I could do. "We're naturally quick."

"Not the way you do it," I heard muttered from the crowd.

My eyes flickered over towards them, an eyebrow raised. So some of them had been so see me perform, nice to know. I quickly pulled my attention back to the Dark Lord.

"You will have your proof," he announced, causing me to blink at him.

"You have proof?" Once again, my voice was disbelieving.

"Of course, Harry," he replied, almost genially.

I wasn't fooled, not by a long shot.

"Until then, however, you'll be staying."

"Can't. I've got work tonight."

There was no bloody way I was staying here any longer than absolutely necessary. As soon as I managed to get away, I was going to call Jonathan and leave. Maybe I'd go across the pond(1) this time. I hear the states are rather nice.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. He didn't like being disobeyed.

"You wont be going in," his voice held a definite order, one that didn't book any argument. Too bad for him.

I blinked, giving him a rather dead look. "No can do," I told him, borrowing a phrase a co-worker was fond of, and admittedly enjoying the look of irritation that flashed across his features. "Jonathan's got something big planned for tonight. I don't show, I'm in trouble."

Not that it mattered either way.

"Do not make me angry, Harry," he warned, his voice a light growl.

My hands shifted to cross over my chest. "Personally, until I have that proof, I don't give a shit about you, or your little … family," I'm surprised I actually managed to say it without sneering, despite the pause. Or maybe it's because of the pause that I was able to say it without any sneering. It's a thought anyway.

Voldemort stalked closer, but this time I held my ground. He wasn't going to intimidate me so easily. I, as Raven, was very hard to intimidate. I never lost my composure, or control of a situation. Then again, I'd also only been Raven for 5 years. Voldemort had been a Dark Lord (and as such regularly practiced intimidation) for more than 50 years.

I blinked coolly up at him as he stopped in front of me, still looking far from impressed.

"If I have found you, then my enemies wont be far behind," he said, trying to sound reasonable. "And they wont be as accommodating as I have been."

I found myself wishing he could be the Dark Lord I remember, complete with trying to kill me. It would have to be easier than this.

"Regardless, I have work. I assure you, I am well able to handle myself."

"Like you did against my followers?" he drawled, sounding amused. "There was a time when they wouldn't have even gotten close to you."

Perhaps, but I was out of practice.

"I was surprised," I drawled. "It won't be happening again.

Voldemort turned away with a mild sigh; however, he managed to sound as if he was being put upon. "If you insist upon going back to that … _muggle_ establishment, you will be taking protection. I refuse to lose you again simply because you do not remember how to take care of yourself."

I felt myself bristle. "I'll have you know," I told him, sharply. "That I can take care of myself, and without the need to those … sticks."

"_Wand_, Harry, and one you will be relearning how to use. Lucius, you will accompany him back and make sure nothing happens to him."

I cannot help but role my eyes as the tall blond stepped forward, eying me with more than a touch of distaste. I barely give him a glance, dismissing him as unimportant, if for no other reason than to annoy him.

"I hardly think this is necessary," I told Voldemort once more.

"If you wish to go, he accompanies you. If not, you remain here."

A sigh of my own passes my lips, letting Voldemort know just how much I disapproved. "Very well. But he waits outside. Jonathan will not have anybody viewing the show before we open."

Voldemort graciously (I cannot help a mental snort at the idea) acquiesced to that.

"Perfect, let's go then," I turn to Lucius, waiting.

The blond glanced at the Dark Lord, who nodded, sharply. Lucius glanced at me, the beginnings of a sneer on his lips as he began to stride towards the door. I began to follow him, more than happy to be out of Voldemort's presence.

I got a total of five steps before a ring tone caught my attention.

_Sun is in the sky oh why oh why?  
Would I wanna be anywhere else  
Sun is in the sky oh why oh why?  
Would I wanna be anywhere else_

_When you look with your eyes  
Everything seems nice  
But if you look twice  
you can see its all lies(2)_

I turn back to Voldemort. "That's my boss. I need my bag. If I don't answer, he's going to be worried."

"_Accio_ _Raven's bag"_

I blinked as my bag zoomed into Voldemort's hand. He then tossed it to me, and I easily caught it. Digging into it, I easily found and pulled out my phone, flipping it open with easy precision.

"Hello?"

"What's going on? It never takes this long for you to answer."

"I was in the shower." I hardly think Jonathan would believe me if I told him the truth. Besides, even if that wasn't the case, I wasn't going to tell him right in front of Voldemort and his followers.

"_Oh, sorry."_

I rolled my eyes. "What do you want, Jonathan?"

"For you to call me Jon for one thing." When I didn't respond, he sighed. "Fine. We need you here in about half an hour, can you manage that?"

I didn't respond right away. "It's short notice, Jonathan."

"I called last night but you didn't answer."

"… I was busy."

"… You didn't take a customer did you?"

"Gods no," my face contorted into disgust.

"Good."

That stopped me. I frowned. "Good?"

"The fact that you don't take anyone rises the tension, makes them not tire of you. You've been stringing these guys along for years and none of them have tired of you."

"Hmm."

"Can you make it?"

"What's the occasion? Rehearsal isn't supposed to start for another …" I pause for a moment, pulling the phone away from my ear to glance at the time. "Three hours."

"I told you I had something big planned, weren't you told?"

"I was told there was a plan. If I'm coming three hours early, I want to why." I felt a little odd discussing these things with my boss here, but I didn't let it drift into my voice.

"Fine. You remember … oh, it was about a year and a half ago when we did that little show."

"Perhaps you can be more specific, Jonathan?" I drawled. "There were a lot of shows a year and a half ago."

I was well aware of the eyes on me, but continued to ignore them. It was the only way I'd get through this conversation and remain sane.

A sigh sounded over the phone. "The one where we found out your pain tolerance."

"… No." My voice was firm, an obvious refusal.

"What?"

"I said no. I'm not putting my 'pain tolerance' on show again." There, that was a definite firm tone to my voice that I was very proud of. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that I'd gained Voldemort's attention. Well, shit. I really didn't want to have this conversation with Voldemort around.

"Damn … Are you sure, Raven? The customers really liked it. I'm sure they'll be just as enthusiastic this time around."

"I'm not receiving this time. I'll give the pain, Jonathan, but I wont receive it." I know I had Voldemort's attention now.

"… Give it? Are you any good?"

I felt a smirk pulling at my lips. "Believe me Jonathan, by the time I'm done with the 'victim', they'll be wanting me to do the same to them. Just set it up, and I'll make sure they never forget it."

"Alright. I'll set it up. You'll be here?"

"Half an hour," I told him, hanging up before Jonathan could say anything else.

"What will you be doing?" Voldemort asked.

I glanced at him as I slip the phone into my bag. "Making dreams come true," I told him, continuing across the room. "You're welcome to come."

Now why the hell did I say that?

---

(1)Across the Pond: America

(2) Song: LDN by Lilly Allen. She's a British singer. I love her work. I do not own

I was going to wait a bit longer to put this up, . but I couldn't. I promised that when I finished a chapter I'd put it up, so here it is. Since I don't know when I'll be updating, putting them up when I finish them is the least I can do for you all.

Um … although I'm surprised I haven't had any questions about it so far, there is a pairing. It's a Voldemort/Harry, though hopefully vaguely believable as I go through it. My muse has a wicked idea *evil grin* and I'm waiting to get to a place where I can actually go through with it.

Allanasha Ke Kiri


	5. Chapter 5 Voldemort

**Title: **_**My Past Will Always Catch up**_

**Author: **Allanasha Ke Kiri

**Summary:** After the deaths of both Ron and Hermione in their seventh year, Harry ran. The pressure was too much; they thought he'd be back, after he realized they needed him. But he never returned, just ran and hid in the one place he was sure no one would look for him.

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Sexual content**

**Chapter 4 – Voldemort**

When he'd first seen the … establishment that Harry Potter worked in, he couldn't help the curl of disgust his lips did. He met Lucius out front, who seemed no more impressed than he was. Behind him, three of his Death Eaters had accompanied him, they, however, didn't seem surprised. Of course, he'd demanded their accompaniment simply because they had been there before.

The inside of the building was just as muggle as the outside was, and Voldemort found himself wondering if anything would be worth sitting here.

"There's a table over here, my lord," Nott told him, motioning to the right.

Voldemort waved them off, and the three Death Eater preceded him to the table. He swept after him (briefly missing his robes) and took the seat that would give him the best view of the stage. Lucius sat in the remaining chair.

Before long, the muggles started coming onstage. Both Voldemort and Lucius were not impressed. It was just like muggles to expose themselves in such a way. A glance to the side told him that the other three weren't paying much attention to the stripping muggles either. They appeared to be waiting.

Voldemort leaned back in his seat, bored.

An hour or so after the 'show' began, Harry Potter walked onstage. No, Voldemort corrected, he didn't walk; he prowled. He looked every bit a predator in a pair of tight black jeans and fishnet top (he still didn't understand the purpose of those). Voldemort sat up. Even the look in his eyes was different. Instead of the blank uncaring look he'd had during their conversation earlier, they now held a hungry gleam, lustful as he gazed out at the crowd. To his right, the Death Eater's inhaled sharply.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice boomed, causing Lucius to startle. From the side of the stage, another muggle appeared holding a microphone (at least that's what he thought they were called, he'd been away from the muggle world too long to be completely sure). "Over a year ago, we experimented," he said. "Tonight, we do it again. Raven, choose your victim.

At the man's words, a smirk lit upon his lips as Harry … no it was easier to think of him as Raven, moved off the stage, weaving his way through the seated muggles. They turned, watching him, but none of them reached out to him, as Voldemort had seen them do to others.

_Interesting,_ he thought.

All eyes were on the dark haired man, silently waiting for his decision. Something began rising in the air, and with a start he realized that he recognized it.

Sex Magic. But how Harry Potter, or Raven was able to do it without remembering anything was even more intriguing. He was fairly certain he hadn't been taught how to do it before either, as it wasn't exactly something one could use on a battlefield. As his eyes stayed glued to the, until then, missing wizard, he had to wonder how he'd managed it, because it was definitely not something Harry Potter would have known how to do.

Though it did explain some of the things he'd seen in Harry's head, like why the muggles were so taken with him when he never showed any more skin than that which he arrived on stage with.

Finally, Raven came to a stop a little in front of their table, circling it until he reached a red-head, bending down so that his head was right next to the man's ear, a hand resting on the table to balance himself. He never once touched the man, but Voldemort could see his eyes close and seemed to be restraining himself. He nodded once and Raven pulled away, pointing at the man.

Immediately, two large men came forward and pulled the man from his seat.

"They call them bouncers," Nott told him, softly. "Meant to keep the muggle dancers safe,"

Voldemort nodded once, dismissively as he watched the muggle get led to the stage. Raven followed behind them, calmly, smoothly, obviously aware that every eye was on him. Even Voldemort found his eyes raking his eyes over the lithe form. By the time he returned to the stage, the man's wrists were locked in manacles that hung from the ceiling, and the man with the microphone was talking again.

"Now, for everyone's safety, this ends as soon as our volunteer screams. You understand that Raven? No getting carried away now." The man smiled, laughing lightly.

Raven however, simply nodded once and turned to a table that had been set up in his absence. "He screams, I stop," he drawled smoothly. "Pity."

A man from a table next to theirs groaned and Voldemort had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Though he did agree that the young man's tone was … more than interesting, he would not be so blasé as to vocalize it. He was very happy to realize that none of his Death Eaters were either.

Raven's hand skimmed over the offered tools before he finally picked one up. Voldemort leaned forward, his interest growing when he realized the young man held a knife. He ran his finger along the blade as he moved into eyesight of his victim. Calmly, he pulled it away and slipped his finger between his lips, sucking the blood clean. Several strangled groans filtered up from the crowd. Voldemort wasn't entirely sure it was just the result of the sex magic that permeated the air.

Raven slowly closed the distance between him and the red-head, raising his left hand and trailing a finger down the man's chest. Several gasps rang through the room, including two of his own Death Eater's. Neither of them seemed to notice Voldemort's gaze on them. Nott did.

"Raven never touches anyone," he murmured, keeping his explanation quiet. "It's forbidden for anyone to touch him without his consent … to touch any of them without their consent, but he's the only one that doesn't allow it, ever. This is the first time I've ever seen him touch someone."

Voldemort nodded once, to show that he'd heard before turning his attention back to the stage, where Raven was running the knife over the man's skin. The man seemed to tremble under it. His eyes closed as Raven leaned in and gently kissed the flesh, making sure he was in a position that everyone could see what he was doing. When he leaned back, he brought the knife up once more and carefully cut the skin, the blade cutting through the spot his lips had touched.

The man hissed sharply, his eyes closing. Pulling the knife away, Raven leaned in once more, but instead of a kiss, his tongue darted out, running along the cut and catching the blood as it spilled from the flesh. Voldemort found his eyes trained on Raven's tongue as it worked its way up the flesh and back into his mouth. The young man's eyes closed, as if relishing the taste before bringing up the knife once more.

He whispered something to the chained man, and everyone watched him shiver. Voldemort wondered what Raven had told him.

* * *

After the show, Voldemort and his four Death Eaters waited outside.

"Oh, come on, Rae. It'll be fun, I promise."

Their attention shifted to the alleyway next to the club.

"I have a prior engagement early tomorrow," Raven's voice filtered out from the alley.

"We wont keep you out late," a second voice added as four figures appeared in the mouth of the alley.

Raven shook his head. "I'm afraid I have to decline."

"Tomorrow night then," one of the unknown Muggles said, a blond. "We wont take no for an answer. You either come with us then, or we drag you along tonight."

Raven blinked at them before nodded. "Very well, tomorrow."

"Your word?" A second blond said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Raven nodded. "My word on it."

"Great, I'll call you sometime tomorrow afternoon."

"Not before 4," he said. "I wont be in until then."

They nodded. "Right, see you then, Rae," the only brunette said before his eyes caught sight of the four men standing out front. "Can we help you gentlemen?" he asked, smiling politely.

"We're here for Raven," Voldemort said.

"Rae doesn't take customer's," he said, his smile turning seductive.

Raven snorted. "They're not here for that. They say they know me."

All of the boys turned to blink at Raven.

"Another one?" the second blond asked. "Bloody hell, you'd think they'd give up."

"You guys just sod off, would you?" the first said, glaring at them. "Raven's not gonna buy your stories, he's heard them all before."

Raven, who was now behind them, blinked, looking amused. "They say they have proof."

This caused all three men to turn back towards Raven, shocked once again. "Really?"

"Rae, are you sure?"

Raven shrugged, his eyes on Voldemort. "We'll see, wont we?"

"You want us to stay, mate?"

Raven's head jerked over to the first blond.

"Don't look at me like that. Whether you like it or not, we're mates."

"I'm fine," Raven said, seeming to overlook what had just been said, and the fact that the others were nodding in agreement.

Voldemort could hardly contain the sneer. Muggles were disgusting.

"I'm sure I could hold my own," Raven continued, offering them a small smile, one that looked a little awkward.

The three men gave another glance towards the Death Eaters and nodded. "Alright. We'll be calling you tomorrow at four."

Raven nodded, and Voldemort took it for what it was, a warning. As much as he despised it, it would appear he'd have to let Harry remain in the muggle world, until he gave him that proof. Of course, then he'd force the young man to return with him. He'd rather the muggles didn't start a search before then.

Raven watched the three men head off towards the parking lot before crossing to Voldemort.

"I'd thought you'd have left by now," he drawled.

"Of course not. You're coming back with us."

Just because he knew he'd have to leave Raven, doesn't mean he'd let the young man stay without a struggle.

Raven shook his head. "No. I have prior engagements that require my presence here. If I don't show people will worry."

"They wont find us," Voldemort said. "I have no reason to worry."

"You still haven't shown me your proof," Raven countered, cool eyes narrowing. "I'm not willingly going with you until I get it."

_Willingly, an interesting choice of phrase. _

"I could force you to come," Voldemort told him. "But I wont, on one condition."

Raven raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"Nott will remain with you at all times."

Raven scowled. "I hardly need to be babysat," he said.

"I think otherwise, Harry. Your decision?"

An angry sigh was his only response. "Fine," he said. "But this guy had better not get in my way. I've got things to do, places to go."

"I'm sure he will be most accommodating, wont you, Theodore?"

"Of course, my lord," Nott replied, glancing at Raven. The young man returned his glance, not at all nonplussed.

"Very well," Voldemort said. "I will see you in four days, Harry, with your proof."

Raven barely had a chance to nod before Voldemort disapparated.

* * *

This chapter hates me. Really. First of all, it kept trying to return to first person, and I didn't want that. First person is Harry's POV and only Harry's POV. It's partly how I'm going to remember which person I'm writing as.

You can obviously see Voldemort's interest here ... at least, I hope you can, I was trying to portray that ... Maybe I didn't do it that well though. As much as I love the pairing, I'm not used to writing Voldemort as a love interest. *snickers lightly* that's an interesting way of putting things lol.

Now, the general consensus was that I should remain in Harry's first person, and for the most part, I think I will. Occasionally, I'll switch to Voldemort's … or someone else's, but both (all) of them will be in third person, and will usually be noted at the top of the chapter. It wont happen often, but I've had a couple of ideas that I'd like to try out at some point or another.

I'm sorry about the club scene. I'd meant to do more with that … but my muse drew a blank … sorry.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **_**My Past Will Always Catch up**_

**Author: **Allanasha Ke Kiri

**Summary:** After the deaths of both Ron and Hermione in their seventh year, Harry ran. The pressure was too much; they thought he'd be back, after he realized they needed him. But he never returned, just ran and hid in the one place he was sure no one would look for him.

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Sexual content(Eventual)**

**Chapter 5**

My mental grumbling was done by the time we reached my apartment. Digging my keys from my bag, I quickly unlocked the door, and stepped inside, leaving it open in a silent (impolite, I might add) invitation in. Not that I cared, I didn't want him here in the first place.

I ignored the noise behind me as he closed my door and hung my bag up, followed by my coat after I'd taken it off. Still ignoring the man behind me, I dug into it and pulled out my phone, and my wand, making my way farther into the apartment. If he asked, I'd tell him it was something that had been found on me, and I didn't let it out of my sight because, as strange as it seemed, it felt like a link to my past. He'd probably buy it. Nott had never really struck me as a highly intelligent individual.

"This is the living room, kitchen's through there," I waved dismissively in the direction of my kitchen with the hand holding my cell. "Bathroom's down the hall, first door on the right. Guestroom's just beyond that. That's where you'll be staying."

"And you?"

I turned to face him, with a raised eyebrow. "In my room, of course."

Damn, I knew that look. I resisted the urge to sigh as he closed the distance between us, staring down at me. It was times like these that I hated my height. I'm always so much shorter than my attackers. I gave him my best-bored look.

"I can think of something I'd much rather do."

"I'm sure you can," I replied, dully, not at all impressed. "However, I'm generally asleep in half an hour, and that doesn't leave time for anything else. You're welcome to stay up, if you wish, but don't make too much noise, my neighbors have rather early mornings, and I'm due out of the house by ten tomorrow."

I should have known it wouldn't be that easy. As I turned from him, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back around to face him.

"I've been watching you," he said. "Coming to your shows for about a year now. I knew a filthy muggle couldn't turn me on."

Without giving me time to respond, he crashed his lips down on mine. I felt my anger rise and my body tensed up. Not one touches me, my mind growled. When he didn't immediately pull away, I brought my knee up, catching him between the legs. He gasped and pulled away from me. I stepped back to put more space between us. My eyes were cold as I stared at him.

"I don't take customers," I told him. "Ever. Guest room is the second door to the right. Sleep well." For all the warmth in my voice I could have been telling him to die … who knows, maybe I was.

With that, I turned and walked to my bedroom, leaving him to sort through his pain on his own. Serves him right.

Once in my room, I plugged the phone into the charger and placed the wand onto my nightstand. Just because I 'didn't know how to use it', didn't mean I couldn't keep it close. And if I just happened to shoot off a spell or two at an unsuspecting intruder, well, it was instinctive.

I couldn't help the chuckle that fell from my lips. Even if that were the case, I'd have to be careful about it. Wouldn't do to make Voldemort suspicious. If he went rummaging through my mind again, he just might find where all those other memories are stored. This was a very dangerous game I was playing; I'd known it from the start. I just had to keep it up until I got Nott to leave me alone for a few hours, then I'd run.

Couldn't be too hard, I'd just have to annoy him, and I had four days with which to do so.

* * *

"Raven!"

Beside me, Nott tensed. I paid him no mind as I stepped forward, easily catching the blond streak that threw itself at me. My lips twitched upwards in a small smile as I lifted her. She wrapped her arms around my neck, holding me close.

"I missed you," she said.

I love children, always have.

"I told you I'd be back today."

They seem to be the only thing I care about anymore. That and making sure they're safe, well clothed, and well fed.

"I know," she replied, burying her head in my shoulder.

Echo's of my name reached me and I barely had time to glance up before eight more children surrounded me, pulling at my clothes. I knew them all. The one in my arms was Eliza, with a blond head of curls that almost would have put Shirley Temple to shame, and bright green eyes. She was six years old, and had spent her entire life at the orphanage. Or so I'd been told. I'd only been here for five of those years. I'd had the pleasure of watching her grow up.

"Raven, who's that?"

I glanced down at the kid tugging at my trousers. Jacob. He had hair as black as mine (as short as Kesa would allow it) and hazel eyes. He was glancing behind me.

"Theodore Nott," I told them. "Says he's from my past."

Nott quite suddenly had all nine children's attention. Even Eliza struggled down from my arms to go to him. Nott looked tense and highly displeased at suddenly having the muggle children's attention. He glared down at them, but while the other's cringed back, Eliza stepped closer.

"You his Daddy?" she asked.

"_Are_ you, Eliza," I corrected her, enjoying Nott's look of shock.

"_Are_ you his daddy?" she repeated, never taking her eyes off the man before her.

"No," Nott replied, stiffly. "I am not. His parents are dead."

"He's really an orphan?" Chris asked, turning wide blue eyes to me.

"So it would seem," I told him, with a light shrug.

Chris came up and wrapped his arms around my waist. He was 9 ½ (he tended to get indignant when anyone said he was just nine) and had been at the orphanage for two years. His parents had died in a car crash and they'd never managed to catch the other driver.

I don't know how Chris was before the accident, but he's always been rather quiet around us. Though he talks to me more than the others. I think it's because I was the one to accompany him to his parents' funeral. Kesa had asked me to accompany him because she didn't want the other children to take away from the attention Chris needed at that moment. I'd agreed, and had been there. All the people had looked at me, some had sneered, but I'd ignored them, keeping my attention on Chris. I'd gotten used to the sneering in the wizarding world. There were people who just didn't like me after all.

I'd been the one to see Chris cry and scream; I'd been the one that held him until he cried himself out. For a month, I'd come every day, for varying lengths of time. Kesa was an amazing woman, but she hadn't quite managed eight children and a grieving one. So I'd helped. Amazingly, despite how cold I am, they never once seemed afraid.

"Up?"

Eliza's voice pulled me out of my thoughts, my gaze drawing to where Nott stood with Eliza before him, hands raised in the air, hopefully. I saw a sneer beginning to form, but he held it in. Kind of.

"Your legs work perfectly fine," he told her.

Eliza stayed where she was a moment before her arms slowly lowered. I knew without needed to look that the girl's eyes had widened and that her bottom lip was trembling. Her eyes would be looking up at Nott as if he'd just told her he'd killed her puppy. Tears would begin to well in her eyes. It was a look that only someone truly heartless could resist. Which mean that Nott would probably-

"All right, fine."

I blinked. Not be able to resist? Damn, I'm usually better at guessing people's reactions.

I knew without looking that Eliza's face lit up with a smile. Nott picked her up, now openly scowling. Personally, I though she'd make an amazing Slytherin, had she been a witch.

"Where's Kesa?" I asked.

"Inside," Chris answered, still clinging to my waist. "Backs hurtin' her."

"Hurting," I corrected absently as my hand ruffled his hair.

"Hurting," he repeated, letting me go so I could step forward. "I'm heading inside, Nott. Watch the kids." I didn't wait for a reply as I jogged to the building.

The kids could take care of themselves and I doubted he was allowed to use magic at the moment. Besides, if I was the dark lord's 'most loyal' that meant I was a higher rank than he was, and he had to listen to me. As I went inside, I felt a light smirk pulling my lips, oh, this could be fun.

The building was silent as I entered, which wasn't surprising since the children were outside. I'd always liked this place because it wasn't like other orphanages. It was smaller, more personal, more like a foster home really. Kesa called it an orphanage though, because people still came and looked the children over in the hopes to adopt one of them. I can't recall a single one happening for as long as I'd been visiting. There had been visitors who had looked the children over, stared into their hopeful faces and said that none were to their liking. Kesa and I would have to dry their tears.

Kesa and I were the only constant adults in their lives, and I wasn't exactly a suitable role model. Still, it would tear them apart when I left … perhaps I'd write them letters, send them gifts. Let them know I haven't forgotten about them.

In the living room, Kesa sat in her chair, eyes closed.

"Hello, Raven."

"Kesa," I replied with a small smile, though my eyes didn't get any warmer. She always knows when I'm there. "Chris told me your back's hurting."

She nodded, her eyes opening. "More and more lately."

My smile saddened as I crossed to the couch next to her. "How long?"

"They don't know, but they estimate another year."

I couldn't help but wince. Kesa was a 64-year-old woman, and for as long as I'd known her had been as spry as the children in the yard. Last spring, she'd been told she had cancer. They had offered her treatment, but if it didn't work, she hadn't wanted to leave anyone else in debt. She went in every couple of months and took pills for the pain.

"Have you told the kids yet?"

Kesa shook her head. "I don't want to worry them, and Eliza wouldn't understand."

I nodded. "They deserve to get used to it though."

"I know." Her reply was soft, followed by a sigh. "I was hoping you could take over."

For a moment, my only response was to blink. "What?"

"The children need someone they can trust. They trust you, Raven. You're one of they're only constants, and I'd feel better if I knew you were taking care of them. And … you wouldn't hate them."

"Kesa, I-"

"You're a troubled young man," she interrupted. "When I look at you, I see what these kids could become, if left alone. But I also see a caring young man who would protect them until his dying breath. I see a positive role-model who will do his best by these children and who wont let them down."

I blinked. Well, at least someone thought of me as a positive influence. "I don't think I'll be around for much longer," I told her, softly, almost regretfully.

"Why?"

"I met a few people who have claimed to be from my past."

"Well, that's good, isn't it? It's about time something came back into that head of yours."

I shook my head. "They don't seem to be the nicest of people, and I don't think they'll leave me alone, even if they don't get proof."

"So you're going to run."

I nodded once, suppressing the urge to wince. That made me sound like a coward. Then again, maybe I was, I just didn't care anymore. I wanted out, and if that meant running for the rest of my life then so be it.

"As soon as I can manage it."

We sat in silence for a while, before I reached into my pocket and pulled out an envelope.

"Raven, no."

"We have this conversation every week, Kesa. It's for the kids."

She sighed, tiredly, taking the envelope. "The children are going to be devastated."

"… I know."

I stood then, and left the room. I didn't want to think of the tearing in my chest. I knew from the beginning that I would have to leave eventually. I'd told myself not to get attached, that it would only hurt in the end. I guess I'm just not that good at listening to my inner voice.

I wouldn't do it next time, I promised myself. Next time, I'd stay completely to my self.

…

Could I really be that cold?

Everyone else was easy, I really couldn't care less about them, what they did, what they thought. The children though…

I shook my head, gazing out a window, blinking in surprise. Somehow, the kids had conned Nott into a game of Red Rover, and he didn't seem particularly happy about it. A light smirk lit my lips. I had blackmail. Not that I'd ever have the opportunity to use it.

I shook my head free of the thoughts and made my way back outside. Eliza was the first to notice my presence. She always was. She broke away from the others and ran towards me. I knelt and swung her up once she came within reach. Her happy giggle hurt.

As the others abandoned their game to come to me, I suddenly imagined them wearing something else. Something crisp and clean, new, colorful. Something entirely theirs. I wanted to do it for them, had wanted to since I'd met them, but couldn't with my salary. The orphanage already got everything I didn't need, and that went to help pay the mortgage, heating, food. Their clothes were generally second hand.

I could do it if I had my vault though … though I couldn't have access to it unless I played along with Voldemort for a while.

* * *

"My lord wants you to wear this," Nott told me, handing me a box. He'd stopped calling him 'our' lord after I'd told him, quite plainly, that I had I was my own person and had no bloody lord. Though, the way I'd phrased it was longer and a bit more colorful.

I blinked at it twice before lifting the lid. I really should have guessed what was in it. It was a set of dress robes, a dark green just a shade darker then Emerald. The robes, from what I could tell, were trimmed in both silver and gold (most likely denoting both Gryffindor and Slytherin). I could feel an eyebrow rising.

"It's a dress robe," Nott told me, almost impatiently in answer to an unasked question I hadn't been asking. "Lord Voldemort has a party planned, to celebrate your return."

"A party … what kind of party?"

"Formal, given the fact you were sent dress robes," he drawled sarcastically.

I cursed, causing Nott to blink at me in surprise. I don't curse often.

"Never bothered to learn etiquette," I told him, which was true.

"I'm sure you'll manage," he replied, walking off. He'd been an arse ever since I'd kneed him.

I felt my lips pulled into a frown; there'd gone those plans.

"Who's to say I'll even go?" I demanded, taking a seat with the box across my lap, but raising my voice so that it followed after him. "I've yet to see the proof he's promised me."

"You'll get it tonight."

He wasn't happy with me. Good, I'd purposefully kept busier than normal, doing things so disgustingly muggle, hanging out with muggles, in the hope he'd leave me alone for an hour. That would be when I planned to run. It hadn't worked, unfortunately.

Still, I found myself wondering just what Voldemort had managed to gather, and how it would prove I'd been with him.

"When is it?" I called, repressing a grin as he stormed back into the living room.

"It's impolite to shout across a house," he all but growled.

I raised an eyebrow. "It's my home, and you are an unwanted, if necessary, guest," I told him, coolly. "What time?"

"Be ready by 7."

We don't like each other, and I dearly hope Voldemort doesn't try to convince me that Nott and I were great friends, just not going to fly. I hadn't even been that gullible back at Hogwarts, I certainly wasn't now. In all actuality, I doubted any of the Death Eaters could pull that bit off.

Well … Lucius might. He was very polite after we'd left the Dark Lord … after he'd gotten over the fact he had to baby sit me anyway.

Standing once again, I moved the box to my room, now ignoring Nott. It had been five years since I'd worn robes, longer since I'd worn dress robes. I placed the box on the bed and pulled the robes out. There was a light frown on my lips as I fingered the cloth, wondering what it was. I'd have to ask someone.

The robes didn't look that bad, really. I just resented being _told_ what to wear. And that was both parts of me.

…

I'm suddenly very glad no one can read my mind; they'd probably call me insane. I shook my head, trying to figure out what both parts really thought.

Harry was excited about wearing robes again, but wished it was less flashy, and that he'd been allowed to pick the robe. A different color would have been great. Raven liked the coloring, but disliked the fact that he'd be covered more than usual. He too wished he'd been allowed to pick the robe, but just because he didn't like the fact that someone else was dressing him … me

I sighed, laying the robe on my bed. There was no way I was wearing this traditional, though. That was one thing my inner Harry and I agreed on, for very different reasons. Harry just wanted to be more comfortable. Raven didn't want to expose anything.

My career was based on the fact that no one ever saw more than I wanted them too, and no one felt more than I wanted them to.

Glancing at the clock, I grimace. I had about an hour until I was supposed to be ready. It wouldn't take that long to just slip on the underclothes and the robe. Unless …

How much did I want to piss off Voldemort? Not enough, I decided with a sigh. My displeasure could be shown through other ways.

* * *

Okay, here's another chapter. I hope you all enjoy it ^_^ My muse is having fun at the moment.

Let me know what you think? Is it as good as the previous chapters? I know it doesn't have quite the same tone as the others … at least, I it doesn't seem that way to me, but it should change back soonish.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **_**My Past Will Always Catch up**_

**Author: **Allanasha Ke Kiri

**Summary:** After the deaths of both Ron and Hermione in their seventh year, Harry ran. The pressure was too much; they thought he'd be back, after he realized they needed him. But he never returned, just ran and hid in the one place he was sure no one would look for him.

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Sexual content**

**Pairing: Voldemort/Harry  
**

**Chapter 6**

I nearly started laughing at Nott's expression when I left my room. He looked surprised, lustful. Who'd have thought he'd still lust after me when I was dressed in something that covered me completely. It was highly amusing.

He grunted slightly.

I raised an eyebrow, but he didn't elaborate. The other one joined it when Nott held out his arm to me.

He sighed, becoming irritated with me … I loved it. "Apparation. It's a lot faster than any of your muggle means."

Keeping my expression cool, I stepped closer and laid my hand on his arm, nearly smirking when I felt him shiver under my touch. I touch anyone so rarely that this almost always happens. It generally affects those watching as well, though I'm sure it's only because they're imagining themselves there instead.

We apparated.

* * *

I kept my balance when we landed, though I had to lean into Nott to do it. I easily pulled my arm away, putting distance between us.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, welcome."

I turned, nodding back to Lucius Malfoy. It seemed I'd have to familiarize myself with my name once more.

The quickly covered surprise in Lucius' eyes was interesting, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," I responded, just as articulate as Lucius had been.

"Shall I show you to the ballroom?" he asked. "Perhaps a more accommodating route than the last time you were here."

"Please, Mr. Malfoy," I told him, stepping farther away from Nott with nary a glance. See, I could be polite when I wanted to be.

"You're wanted in the meeting room, Nott," Lucius told the man behind me. "Immediately."

"Of course."

I didn't even turn to watch him go.

"I do hope he wasn't too unbearable," Lucius said as we began moving. "Nott never did like you much. Then again, he never liked anyone with more power than he had."

I laughed, I couldn't help it; it was a dark, sarcastic laugh, but it was one nonetheless, and it got me another surprised look from Lucius. "Oh, I'm positive he'd have been wonderful, had I been willing to … accommodate him."

Lucius glanced at me and raised an eyebrow, but I didn't elaborate.

"Har- Mr. Potter." Amazingly, he actually sounded as if he'd wanted to say my name. Had he actually been chosen as my 'friend'? Now I knew things were going to be interesting.

"… oh, Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" It was strange being called that again. For five years, my name has been Raven. I'm not sure I'm ready to be Harry again … Scratch that, I don't _want_ to be Harry again. Unfortunately, for a while at least, it seemed I wouldn't have a choice.

"Nothing, Mr. Potter … You were missed."

I blinked up at him, slightly impressed. He sounded as if _he'd_ missed me. Then again, Lucius Malfoy always was one of the better manipulators. Not completely sure what to say to him, I turned back to face the hall, silent.

Lucius sighed, reaching out a hand to grasp my arm, pulling me to a stop. I instinctively tensed, pulling my arm away. He let me.

"Whatever caused you to choose there to work?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. The truth was, it was the only thing I could have done at the time. I hadn't planned to be there for this long, but I'd gotten to like it.

"You were there, Mr. Malfoy," I told him, my voice amused, yet low, holding a seductive quality that would have had any of the club's customers trembling. "It's a kind of power. I own them. They know it, and they can't do anything about it." I stepped closer, my eyes on him. He blinked. "They will do anything I want them to if I would only deign to … touch them."

"I would appreciate it, Mr. Potter if you would step back."

I smirked at him, taking another step forward. We were almost touching. I was teasing him, yes, but I seriously wanted to see if I could push him. Lucius was an opportunist after all.

"Why, Mr. Malfoy? Surely you're … curious," I purred.

He grimaced. "No. In fact, it disturbs me to see the young man I considered a second son act in such a way."

I stumbled back. Shock … that's what it was. _Second son?_ How the hell could he say that and sound as though he'd meant it? He hated me … probably still does.

So, he wasn't my friend … he was supposed to be the 'father' I'd never had. Well, that was … surprising. I shook my head slightly. It had been awhile since I'd been shocked. Surprised, sure, but not shocked.

"Are you all right, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes," I replied, straitening my posture.

He looked me over, nodded once, and opened the door to his left.

We entered a large ballroom, brightly lit with soft music playing in the background. Orchestral if I wasn't mistaken. I couldn't see them, so I couldn't actually be sure.

All talking ceased when we entered. They stared at me, their number larger than I'd remembered. I didn't fidget, the club had gotten me over that quickly enough.

"Harry!" a high, excited voice exclaimed before I was pulled against a soft body, and had a face full of black hair. I tensed and attempted to pull away, but she wouldn't let me. Her arms tightened around me and she started to sway.

"Harry, Harry, my little Harry," the woman said, her voice sing-songy and starting to sound very familiar. "I've missed you. Was worried I was. How was my ickle Harry? I wondered."

I knew who was holding me.

"Bellatrix, release him. It will not do any good if you suffocate him."

She hesitated a moment, but pulled back, pouting, and glaring at Lucius. It was an interesting combination. She didn't stop touching me. First, her hands brushed down my robes, straightening them out as she did so.

"Look at how you've grown up!" she exclaimed. "No more the scrawny boy you were. All grown up, you are."

When her hands moved to tame my hair, I stepped back, ignoring her crushed look. I'd had enough of being touched.

"He doesn't remember, Bellatrix," Rodolphus told her, approaching them.

Her pout intensified. "It's not fair," she declared, childishly. I almost expected her to stomp her foot. It was something Christine would have done (Christine was 8 and at the orphanage.).

Lucius cleared his throat. "You were closest to Bellatrix," he said.

Oh, great, so Bellatrix Lestrange was supposed to be my F-

"Of course we were close," she said, petulantly. "I'm his mummy." Then she enveloped me in another hug, as my brain screeched to a halt.

I was actually glad of it because it hid my expression. Which I'm sure was horrified. _Bellatrix_ was supposed to be my maternal figure? Gods all mighty, what was Voldemort thinking? A moment later, I was able to get myself together and pulled away again.

"I was told my parents were dead." It was crass, I admit, but it was the truth.

"They are," Bellatrix agreed, readily enough. "But my baby Potter needed a mummy and those nasty blood-traitors-"

I had to bite my tongue to keep from interrupting her.

"-wouldn't give you one. So, I'm your mummy," she took hold of my hands. "And I take such good care of you. I fed you, and watered you, and clothed you. I brushed your hair and made it stay down," One of her hands rose to my head, her fingers playing with it, perhaps trying to get it tamed. "You were my pretty little baby."

I sounded more like a bloody doll.

"Perhaps, Bellatrix, it would be best if you gave him some space. I hardly think smothering him is going to help him remember anything."

Wasn't that the point? If I actually remembered something, the charade would be over.

Bellatrix pouted, but released me, finally.

"Mr. Potter-"

"Always so formal, Lucius," Bellatrix snapped. "You'll make him think he isn't wanted."

_Oh, no worry of that_, I thought. Not with the amount of trouble they were going through.

"I hardly think-"

"You call me Bella, Harry," Bellatrix simpered, grinning at me. "And Rodolphus, my husband. You'll remember him soon, I know."

"Harry," Rodolphus nodded once.

I nodded back, it was only polite.

"Come on," Bellatrix said, threading her arm through mine and tugged me farther into the ballroom.

I couldn't help but grimace, gently extracting my arm from hers. She blinked at me, pouting.

"I don't like to be touched," I told her, but that only caused her pout to deepen.

"But that never included me before," she said, sounding upset.

I blinked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't remember."

She sighed, then ignored what I'd just said to grab my arm again, dragging me off to meet the death Eaters.

It was sometime later (Though Bellatrix was still steadily dragging me from group to group) that Voldemort arrived. I knew the instant it happened because my scar flared to life. Around the ballroom, conversation died and every eye turned towards the door. Voldemort was there. Just behind him were Nott, Walden Mcnair, and … Evan Rosier. At least, I thought it was Evan. I never really saw him that often.

The three behind the Dark Lord disappeared into the crowd as Voldemort made his way to the throne on the other side of the room. Everyone bowed (or curtsied) as he passed them; everyone but me. I'd never bowed to him before, and I certainly didn't 'remember' doing it.

He noticed, however, and stopped just before me. I think he'd have noticed if I had, anyway. Besides, it would have been more suspicious. That's what I told myself anyway. I just didn't want to bow to him. The worst he could do was kill me, and he didn't seem inclined to do that. Merlin knew why. He looked at me a moment, his eyes flashing bemusedly.

"Ah, Harry," he seemed pleased. "I hope you are enjoying yourself."

I shrugged. "Not my kind of scene. I'm still waiting for that proof."

Voldemort smiled, but I wasn't reassured. "Oh, you'll get it, Harry, after the party. Enjoy yourself."

He reached up to brush my hair, but I stepped back out of easy reach. Why the hell didn't anyone get the fact that I bloody well didn't want to be touched?

"Enjoy the party, Harry," he told me, moving along.

I couldn't relax though, as I suddenly had Bellatrix attached to my arm again.

"He's always so much more lenient with you," she said, pouting again.

I almost laughed, almost. Lenient? Yeah, right. Still, I wasn't supposed to know that. It's harder to pretend when they're look at me. My past's caught up, and I can't do a bloody thing about it.

"Hmm." That's all I can reply with.

Then, she's dragging me along to the next group. Would anyone be insulted if I told them I was bored? Probably. With my luck, Bellatrix would lecture me or something. That wasn't on my to-do list so I kept quiet.

* * *

I found myself happy when I managed to escape Bellatrix, taking the opportunity to slip out onto a balcony for a breath of fresh air. A brief thought of escaping crossed my mind, but then I noticed how high I was, and decided against it. Broken bones was not worth getting out of here, especially when I doubted Voldemort would believe I'd been pushed.

"Little lost kittens shouldn't wander off after just being found."

I jumped, whirling around to catch sight of Evan Rosier, who leaned against the wall next to the door. I hadn't even heard him. I blinked at him, silently, before raising an eyebrow.

"Kitten?" I drawled, unimpressed. "An interesting choice of phrase. From my experience, cats come and go as they please. Nor do they get 'lost'."

Evan's eyes lit up. To hide my unease, I leaned back against the balcony's railing, eying him silently. The little involvement I'd had with Evan had never made me very comfortable with him. Of course, that might have had something to do with the stories I'd heard about him from Order members.

"Oh, but they do," Evan responded, smirking at me. "That's why muggles have begun to chip them, to find them should they run away."

I shrugged. "If they really want to get away, they wont be found so easily."

Evan shrugged, still looking amused. "It may take years, but they're found. Once heard a tale of a missing dog found 2 years after it had disappeared, nearly 200 miles away from home."

I blinked, feeling a frown pull on my lips. "Yes, but if it wanted to, it could just run again," I told him, causing him to tilt his head at me. I crossed my arms in front of me. "Those chips only work if the cat, or dog, is actually found by someone, and reported. Should someone not think to check, or the animal doesn't let itself be found, then it will never be found, and never returned."

I was surprised when Evan laughed, throwing his head back.

"Perhaps they can," he said, finally. "But if they have a truly persistent master, they wont be gone for long, no matter how much they may wish to be so."

I blinked at him. This was beginning to sound rather … odd, and not at all comforting. "Some pets are smarter than their masters give them credit for."

Evan continued to grin. "That they are, if they are able to hide for five years. Come kitten, they'll be looking for you soon."

My eyes narrowed, my liking of Evan had just plummeted. "I find myself not caring. The party is petty and boring. If they want to continue on to the second reason I'm here, then I'll return. Until then, I'm more than content to remain where I am."

Evan's head tilted once more, eying me carefully. Damn him, he still looked amused. "I'll inform the master then," he said, returning back through the curtained doorway.

I shook my head. This was just great, now Rosier was referring to me as a pet, and Voldemort my master. This was just bloody wonderful.

I sighed, turning back to face the grounds with a shake of my head. It was just for a while, I reminded myself, just until I wasn't watched so closely. As soon as that happened I'd be away once again.

Without really thinking, I grabbed hold of the railing and pulled back and down, letting my arms pull upwards. I only stopped when I heard my back pop, and let out a soft moan before rising back to my feet.

"Quite a kitten, to stretch so comfortably," I heard, Evan's voice coming from the doorway.

"This kitten has claws he's not afraid to use," I replied, evenly as I turned, blinking when I saw Voldemort.

He raised an eyebrow at me, looking amused. Great, just what I didn't want, an amused Dark Lord … well, I suppose it's better than an annoyed or angry one.

"Come, Harry," Voldemort said. "You've been wanting that proof, haven't you?"

"Of course," I drawled.

"Let's go then," he replied, holding out his hand.

I eyed him a moment before crossing the short distance. I didn't take his hand.

"My pain tolerance might be high," I told him, arms crossed, "but that doesn't mean I'll willingly put my hand on a burning stove."

"Ah, yes," Voldemort said, taking back his hand. "I'll have to have Severus begin brewing your potion again."

I blinked at him. "What potion?" It was no shock that actual surprise and suspicion filtered through in my voice.

"The one that mutes the pain of course," Voldemort said. "I'm afraid he's yet to name it."

_Because there is no such thing_, my mind snapped.

"But it does lessen the pain, or so you've said. It will work until you begin to trust me again."

I frowned again. "Trust you?"

_Not in this lifetime_.

Voldemort nodded and I wondered why the hell he was being so patient with me. There was something I was missing, I just knew it.

"The pain you feel is the lingering of protection I … lessened. You do not trust me, yet, so it views me as a danger and tells you to get away in the only way it can. As you grow to trust me, it will lessen."

I blinked, wondering if he'd just made that up, or if it was true … either way, it was going to be hard, because until I 'trusted' him, I'd still hurt. And until that time, I doubt that Voldemort'd let me go anywhere without 'supervision'.

"Nice try, but it isn't just you I don't trust."

Voldemort chuckled, which creeped me out. I'd never heard him chuckle before. Laugh maniacally sure, but not chuckle. It was … odd.

"They are not connected as we are," he answered. "Your protection only works with me, or against me as the case seems to be. Now, come Harry, I believe you've waited long enough to learn who you are."

He held a hand out towards the door, waiting. It took me a moment to realize he wanted me to go first. Suppressing a sigh, I did so. Voldemort took the lead once he and Evan were in the ballroom. I silently followed them through the crowd and felt the eyes on me. For the first time in nearly five years, I found it difficult to stay Raven. Their stares made me uncomfortable. Thankfully, I was able to keep from fidgeting, managing to at least look as though I was ignoring them.

I remained silent as they led me out of the ballroom, mentally breathing a sigh of relief. None of us said a word the short time it took for Voldemort to lead us to a smaller room. No sooner was I inside then I was attacked … well, not really, but Bellatrix had hold of my arm. Fortunately (for her), even I considered it rude to shake my arm around until she slipped off.

"You shouldn't wander off like that," Bellatrix said with a disproving frown … wait, was I getting lectured? "You'd get lost in the mansion. You don't remember your way around. So you should be careful and stick with me."

I think I was … which was odd in and off itself, but the fact that it was Bellatrix just made it stranger. Across the room, Evan laughed.

"Oh, no, I think the kitten's a solo hunter, Bella."

Bellatrix glared at him. "I think I know _my_ baby."

"I would like to point out that I am neither child, nor baby," I drawled, looking none-to-pleased with the turn of discussion.

"Of course you aren't," Bella cooed, causing me to blink at her. She didn't hear a word I said, I'm sure.

"Come now, Bellatrix, release him. We do need to continue."

Glancing over to the side, I saw that it was Lucius that had spoken. He was leaning against the fireplace, drink in hand. He nodded to me once, but I didn't have time to nod back as Bellatrix yanked me over to the couch.

"Severus will be here momentarily and you'll have your proof, Harry," Voldemort told me, leaning back in a chair.

I raised an eyebrow. Were they going to feed me a potion? Why? As far as I knew, there wasn't one to cause the return of someone's memory. If there were, wouldn't Lockhart have gotten his memory back? Still, this made me wonder just what the hell they had as proof.

"So, what, you've got pictures or something?" I asked, extracting my arm form Bellatrix so I could lay it over my crossed legs, my other resting along the back of the couch.

"We have a few," Voldemort replied, easily. "Though most of our proof will be made by you."

I blinked, frowning "Really. And just how do you plan on doing that?"

I winced, jerking to the side as Bellatrix smacked me upside the head.

"Show our lord the proper respect."

I blinked at her, my expression cooling dramatically. "Your lord, perhaps," I replied. "I have no lord, nor do I plan on gaining one."

Bellatrix immediately looked angry, but before she could respond, Voldemort interrupted her.

"Hush, Bellatrix."

She bowed her head. "Yes, my lord."

I blinked. Wonder how long Voldemort could stay so lenient before he just crucio'd me for impertinence.

The door opened.

I sat back, twisting my head to glance back to the door.

"My lord," the figure said, allowing me to identify him immediately. There was no mistaking Snape's voice. "My apologies, the potion gave me some trouble."

Voldemort nodded, waving the man in. "Severus, you remember Harry."

Snape looked at me as he entered farther and nodded. "Of course, my lord."

"Severus was a teacher of yours for several years."

I gave him a nod.

"Mr. Potter." He handed me a vial, which I took.

"And what is this for?" I asked, eyes on Snape.

"It will bring back some of your memories." It was Voldemort that answered, forcibly drawing my attention once more. "Not all of them, but it is meant to start the process."

I blinked at him. Well, that can't be right. If it _was_ supposed to return my memory, that would be bad for them. So, whatever this was, it wasn't going to return my memory. After a moment, I held up the bottle, gazing at the blue liquid.

"For all I know, it could be poison. I've no reason to trust you, after all."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "If I had wanted to kill you, Harry, I would have already done so."

… That I believed. So, with a mental shrug, I uncorked the vial and downed it with a grimace.

"Uhg!" I'd forgotten how horrible they tasted.

Snape raised an eyebrow at me, but said nothing. A moment later, my vision grew blurry, and I felt myself falling backwards.

Fuck.

***

_Harry's spine straightened when he felt something smack it. "Ow!"_

"_Perhaps, Harry, you will remember your posture now?"_

_He grimaced. "Sorry, Mr. Malfoy."_

_Lucius nodded. "Keep your back straight, Harry. Now, how would you greet me?"_

_Harry gave a mental sigh, but gave a smile, however small. It was still polite. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy, a pleasure. How have you been?"_

_At least, that was what he'd been taught._

_Lucius shook his head. "No, Harry. That's a very muggle way of going about it."_

_Harry frowned. "Well, what's wrong with it? It's very polite."_

"_But it's not the wizard way. In fact, that's considered rude, Harry."_

_He blinked, his frown deepening. "It is? How?"_

"_To inquire after someone's business without them offering to give you the information, is rude, Harry."_

"_Oh. Why?"_

_Lucius sighed. "It dates back before Merlin's time."_

_***_

"_No, no, no, not like that."_

_Harry glanced up with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Bella."_

_She shook her head, giggling lightly before pulling him into her arms. "See, it's like this." _

_She put on of his hands on her waist, and taking the other one in her hand. "Ready?"_

"_Er … no?" he asked, smiling. Then, before she could say anything. "Okay, alright. Let's see. It was … back, right?"_

_Bella nodded, eyes shining at him. Harry grinned at her before stepping back, pulling Bella with him. She hmm'ed approvingly as he led her to the side. _

_***_

_Harry twirled a knife in his fingers, silently gazing out across the grounds. His eyes were quiet, cold, angery. He winced slightly when the blade cut into his hand, drawing his gaze down to the cut, silently watching as the blood seeped out. It wasn't a major wound, so he didn't need to worry about getting it healed, but the sight of his blood was captivating. _

"_**I answer the question, 'Death, where is thy sting?' with here in my heart and mind and memories."**_

_Harry twitched, but that was the only sign he gave that he heard. _

"_Has the kitten's claws been clipped? Is that the reason he does not respond?"_

"_Not clipped," Harry responded, quietly, coldly. _

_Evan stepped into view, his head tilted to the side, watching him thoughtfully. "I see a plan forming in your head. What is it?"_

_Harry shook his head, not answering. Nor did his gaze shift over to the man next to him. _

"_How does it feel, to lose them?" Evan asked, actually sounding curious._

"_The same as losing anyone else."_

"_But I've never lost anyone," Evan told him, eyes shining. "Never anyone I cared for. Tell me how it feels."_

"_Perhaps you should care for someone, and when you lose them, you will learn it for yourself. It's a better experience than being told about it."_

_Evan grinned at him. "I'm not capable of it," he said._

_Harry shrugged. "Not my problem, is it?"_

"_Well?" Evan asked, stepping closer. "How does it feel to know that the man you once trusted killed the ones you held dear?"_

"_I'm gonna make him pay," Harry said, finally. "I'm gonna kill Dumbledore, and I'm going to let him know that I'm doing it because he killed them."_

"_Oh? And how are you going to do that? Lord Voldemort has yet to tell us who has gotten that mission."_

"_He'll give it to me," Harry said, turning away._

_***_

_Harry was being thoroughly snogged, his back pressed back against the wall. His arms were wrapped around his partner's neck, pressing closer to the body in front of him. When they finally separated, Harry breathed heavily, gazing up into the red eyes of his lover. _

"_You seem more excited tonight, Harry," he breathed, his hands sliding to rest on Harry's hips. _

_Harry smirked up at him. "You don't seem disappointed with that," he responded, his hands sliding down Voldemort's chest, unbuttoning the man's shirt as he did so. _

_Voldemort grinned at him. "Of course not," he replied, slipping his hands under Harry's shirt. _

_His eyes flickered closed, head tilting back. _

"_I do so love your reactions, Harry," Voldemort murmured before leaning down to catch the younger man's lips. _

_Harry moaned into the kiss as his lover brushed his thumb over his nipple. _

***

The first thing he noticed when he came around was the hand stroking his hair. For several minutes, he remained still and silent, eyes closed.

"When will he come around, Severus?" that was Voldemort. His voice was another unmistakable one, even with his impatience.

"As soon as the 'memories' have finished playing out, my lord. It is impossible to determine how long that will be."

"Look at him sleeping. So cute, my baby Potter," Bella said from somewhere above me. She must be the one with the hand in my hair then. Surprisingly, I didn't mind. It was comforting. And that in itself made me uneasy.

Silence met that, and I decided it was time to wake up. Taking a deep breath, I shifted.

"He's waking," that was Lucius.

"That's my baby," Bellatrix cooed. "Come back to Mummy now." Her voice was soft and encouraging, though it still held the same insane quality that made her, her. It did make me wonder just how seriously she was taking her role.

It was, admittedly, a little disconcerting. Just what was Voldemort thinking when he assigned her as my maternal figure? Then again … I really hope he isn't planning on bringing that last memory to light. I do _not_ want to sleep with the dark lord.

Repressing a sigh, I let my eyes flutter open. The first thing I saw was Bellatrix's delighted eyes.

"Morning Harry, enjoy your sleep?" she asked.

"… It was … enlightening …" I answered before sitting up. Thankfully, Bellatrix let me.

My eyes flickered around the room, landing briefly on Evan, who was grinning like he knew a secret, before moving on. The last person I looked at was Voldemort, and I didn't really want to look at him then, either. That last memory was … disconcerting.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Well?"

"The images were jumbled," I told him, calmly.

_Liar_.

"I'm afraid I need some time to sort them out."

"Very well, I'll-"

"I would like to return home now."

Voldemort blinked at me, irritation flashing through his eyes. He was silent for a long while.

"Very well, Harry, however, you must realize that you are not safe there by yourself."

"I don't want Nott in my home again," I told him, point blank. "We don't get along, and I don't want him near me."

Voldemort blinked at me, looking surprised. It made me wonder just what Nott had told the Dark Lord. He nodded again, looking less than happy. Perhaps Nott was going to get in trouble. Goody.

"All right. Is there someone you'd prefer?"

I gave him a look; I couldn't help it even as I wondered at the fact that he was letting me choose.

"I don't know anybody," I told him dryly. "Except now, I've got random images for everyone in this room."

"Very well, Evan will accompany you,"

I blinked. What the hell? Evan Rosier? In my apartment?

"Might as well," I said, finally. It was better than Bellatrix, I suppose. And I had no doubt that she'd be Voldemort's second choice. Besides, Evan hadn't tried to touch me … yet.

"Excellent." Voldemort grinned at me, looking as if all his plans were coming together. And they might well have been, because I had absolutely no idea just what he was hoping to get out of this.

I stood, then frowned. "Hey …" Damn, had I been told his name yet? Had I even asked? I couldn't remember … then again … I had just had the 'memories' shoved into my head. "Voldemort, isn't it?"

Voldemort looked pleased, perhaps I hadn't been told then?

"Yes, Harry?" he asked, standing as well.

"… Dumbledore."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed.

"Who did he kill?"

"What?" Voldemort demanded.

"One … one of the memories, I suppose. Someone called Dumbledore, I believe it was, killed someone. Someone … special, it seemed. Who was it?" I had a very nasty thought as to who it was, but I wanted confirmation.

"Ah, yes. Friends of yours, Harry," he said. "They joined us when you did. Dumbledore killed them when he had the chance."

"Yeah, great. Who were they?" I snapped impatiently.

"Watch your tone, Harry," Voldemort told me, tone warning. "There is only so much I will forgive even you."

I felt my lips pull down into a frown and gave a short nod. "Apologies. Who were they?" My impatience was still there, but this time I wasn't snapping.

"Better, Harry. Their names were Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger; two very talented Wizards. They were a boon to our work."

I nodded, slightly in thanks.

* * *

(1) I answer the question, 'Death, where is thy sting?' with here in my heart and mind and memories.

Maya Angelou

This is my longest chapter to date, and will probably remain so for the near future. It is 16 pages long and over 5000 words. Actually, it was 2 chapters meshed together. I was, originally, going to wait and Evan and the proof in the next chapter, but decided against it. That, and my muse was on a roll. So, lucky you, that means an extra long chapter. ^_^

So, what do you think of my Evan Rosier? Originally, I'd wanted to base him after another version of him I'd read, but couldn't get him to work, so I'd changed it. This one comes a lot easier to my mind and I don't spend 20 minutes just trying to figure out what he's going to say next. .

Also, to clear up any misunderstandings, the Nott that accompanied Harry to the Orphanage was Theodore Nott. He's the guy that went to school with Harry. Not his father. Nott Sr. is somewhere else currently. Not sure where yet.

Also, does anyone want an appearance of Draco?

Allanasha Ke Kiri


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **_**My Past Will Always Catch up**_

**Author: **Allanasha Ke Kiri

**Summary:** After the deaths of both Ron and Hermione in their seventh year, Harry ran. The pressure was too much; they thought he'd be back, after he realized they needed him. But he never returned, just ran and hid in the one place he was sure no one would look for him.

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Sexual content**

**Pairing: Voldemort/Harry**

**Chapter 7**

I pulled away from Evan as soon as we landed in my apartment. "I can honestly say that I hate that," I told him dryly.

Beside me, Evan laughed quietly. "It's much better when you're in control. You'll have to ask someone to teach you again." There was a strange tone to his voice.

I shook my head, not even bothering to look at the man. "Kitchen's through there," I waved towards the kitchen. "Bathroom's down the hall, first door on the left. Guest room's one door after that. You'll be staying there."

"Of course,"

I was very glad that he hadn't said anything beyond that. I nodded once and made my way into the kitchen, shoving up the sleeves of my robes. I heard him follow behind me, but ignored him as I set the folder in my hands on the counter and opened my fridge. I was starving. The little appetizers in the ballroom hadn't done much to fill me up. Though I had a vague idea that I'd left before the meal.

Not that it mattered; I much preferred my own food to something they'd have given me. After a moment, I pulled out a package of meat and set it on the counter. Hamburgers, I think. They're fairly simple to make, and they don't need any real big preparations. But first … I'd need to change.

"Stay here," I told Evan as I picked the folder back up and left the kitchen. I felt him staring after me as I did so, but paid it no mind.

He didn't follow, thankfully. I'd had just about as much of death eaters as I could handle. I needed a moment or two alone. Closing the bedroom door behind me, I leaned against it with a sigh.

How the hell had they managed it though? I wondered. I hadn't even known a potion like that existed. Apparently it did though, or it wouldn't have worked. I'd have to look it up, see if I should expect any side effects … like other 'memories' popping up.

God I hoped not. I didn't think I could handle anymore of them. Well, most of them hadn't been that bad … but the one with Voldemort …

I shuddered. Thankfully, he hadn't looked all snakey. If he had, I'd have probably screamed … well, maybe not. It wasn't exactly a dignified reaction, but it wouldn't have been pleasant.

Silently, I let out another sigh and pushed myself off the door. I tossed the folder on the bed as I walked by it. Once in front of my closet, I stripped out of the robe, letting it fall to the ground as I dug through my other clothing.

Damn, I'd forgotten to ask what the material was. Well, no matter. It wasn't like it was important.

"Here we are," I murmured, as I pulled my favorite shirt from the closet. It was black with a gold dragon on the front. It's tale wrapped around to the back and changed into a silver Basilisk type serpent. I was pretty sure that wasn't what the makers had intended, but I couldn't help what I thought it looked like. The pants I chose were black as well, and tight. Someone had once told me that they looked painted on. That was fine with me. They were comfortable. Besides, they were better than Dudley's hand-me-downs. Anything was better than those.

I shook my head at the memory and shoved them away with the rest of them. It was happening more and more lately. It was as if they saw my being found as their time to slip back. It wasn't, not if I had any say about it.

As soon as I dressed, I moved towards my door once again. My cell stopped me, causing me to frown. I didn't get many callers. The most common was Jonathan. My curiosity piquing, I crossed back to my bed, grabbing it off of my bedside table.

"Hello?"

**"…Raven?"** The voice sounded nervous.

"Yes?" No one I knew sounded like that.

"**It's Chris"**

Then again, I could be wrong. "What is it?"

"**It … It's Kesa. She was taken to the hospital."**

I froze. "Sh- crap. Are you alright?" Wincing slightly at my almost slip up. Kesa didn't like me cursing around them, and she'd been quite ... vocal about that in the past.

"**We're fine, mostly. Just worried and … I don't know how to calm them down."**

Ah, now I understood the reason for the call.

"I'll be right over," I told him.

**"Really?"**

"Yes, really. I'll be bringing … company along." I doubted Evan would let me go by myself, unfortunately.

"**Okay."**

"See you in a few."

I hung up before he could answer. Not the politest thing I'd ever done, but I thought he'd over look it. I slipped the phone into my pocket as I returned to the kitchen. Evan was sitting at the small table, a picture of perfect patience. I didn't trust it.

"I don't care what you did," I told him, though I'm sure it came out more tired than uncaring.

He raised an eyebrow at me as I crossed to the package of meat and returned it to the fridge.

"I'm leaving."

"Where?"

"I doubt that's any of your concern."

His lips twitched upwards, amused again. It was beginning to get annoying. "I'm supposed to watch you, Kitten. If you're going somewhere dangerous, the master would not be happy."

I rolled my eyes; I couldn't help it. "I'm babysitting," I drawled. "I doubt that's classified as dangerous."

"I'm coming."

I shrugged a shoulder as I walked passed him. "Fine, but only because I doubt you'll stay."

"Your vast knowledge is impressive, Kitten."

I ignored him this time as I headed for my coat. "You'll need to change, somehow. Robes aren't normal wear here."

He chuckled behind me. It was almost as odd as Voldemort's … almost.

"I know that, Kitten. Unlike my colleagues, I have spent time amongst the muggles."

"Hmm." Once again, I ignored his use of the nickname. I was sure he was only using it to provoke me … unless they knew what was in the memories. Which, I had to admit, was a logical conclusion.

"I believe this is acceptable."

Withholding a sigh, I turned around, preparing myself to criticize his wardrobe choice. Only to blink instead.

"It's acceptable," I told him.

He wore a plain black shirt and a pair of pants like mine. They were more than just acceptable. He looked really good in them. Evan smirked at me, as if he could read my thoughts.

"Let's go," I told him with a raised eyebrow as I grabbed my coat. So what if he could read my mind. I'd thought nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn't like I went to bed with every guy (or girl) I found attractive. In fact, despite my career, and what people thought of me, I didn't go to bed with anyone.

That was something not even my colleagues knew. I bet they'd laugh if they knew I was still a virgin … no, not just laugh, they'd be rolling on the floor. I suppose it is odd, most guys my age are very happy to be rid of it, but I'd never seen the appeal of just sleeping with a random stranger, just to say I had.

Once I locked the door, we were on our way.

* * *

It didn't take us long to reach the orphanage, it being only a couple of minute's walk from my apartment. Evan didn't say a word the entire way, which surprised me, but I didn't comment on it. I could, however, feel him watching me.

_Be careful of him._

_No shit_, I snapped back at my inner self. Evan was dangerous. I couldn't slip up around him, it could be deadly.

Seconds after I knocked on the orphanage door, it opened.

"Raven," The relief in his voice was undisguised.

"Chris," I answered as we entered. "This is Evan. He's staying with me for awhile."

Chris blinked at him. "He from your past too?"

"So they say. Where are the others?"

"Living room. Eliza finally stopped crying, kinda. It's quieter anyway."

I nodded, hanging my coat up. Chris followed close behind me. I didn't really care what Evan was doing.

"R-Raven."

That was the first time I'd ever heard Eliza say my name with anything but with a gleeful giggle. I crossed the room in 3 big strides (impressive for me) and gathered her into my arms. She started crying again.

Lifting her up, I moved to the couch and sat down so she was on my lap. The others were close.

"Kesa will be fine," I told them, very aware of the fact that Evan was nearby. "Do you know why she's gone?"

They shook their heads.

"All they said was that she's sick," Jason said, gazing up at me with wide eyes.

"She is, but she'll be back."

_She had better_, I thought.

They nodded, trustingly. The only ones who weren't were Chris and Sarah, the two oldest.

"How about you go bring down your blankets, hmm? And we'll all sleep down here."

Eliza sniffled and glanced up at me. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's like a … slumber party, okay? I've never slept over before, have I?" I glanced around at the others.

They all shook their head.

I waited a moment. "Well?" I gave them a small smile. "Go get your blankets."

They left, if rather slowly. It hurt to see them without their usual energy."

"Well, well," Evan said from his spot by the door. "The kitten has surprises even now."

I sent him a glare as I stood. "It's surprising that I take care of children?" I drawled with disdain.

He smirked at me, looking like he knew something he wasn't going to tell me.

"If you're going to stay, help me move the furniture."

Evan's amusement grew as he pushed off the wall and pulled out his wand. A wave later, the furniture was pushed up against the walls. Wizards were so lazy, I couldn't help but think.

Not long later, the children came back down, each of them carrying an armful of blankets. Chris dropped his on a chair and left the room, Sarah followed his example. I shrugged, watching them go curiously.

"Let's get these beds made up, hmm?"

It didn't take long, not that Evan was any help. He just leaned against the wall, watching with that infuriating smirk of his. Chris and Sarah returned long before we were done with more blankets, probably for me and Evan … if I couldn't convince him to leave.

When we were done, Eliza's hand clung to my pants, which was quite a feat. I hadn't known there was enough fabric _to_ cling to. Reaching down, I ran a hand through her curls.

"Why don't you go choose a book Eliza? I'll read to you guys."

It shouldn't take them long to fall asleep, it was hours after they were normally in bed.

Eliza smiled at me, the first one I'd seen all night (well, the first one here) and left the room, taking Jason with her. I didn't miss how she looked at Evan as they passed. She didn't like him. That was a first. I'd never seen her not like someone. Had to say something about Evan's character, though, didn't it?

When she returned, she still gave Evan a wide berth, keeping Jason between them. Handing me the book, she sat down in my lap, curling into me. I didn't mind, she needed the comfort.

"Green Eggs and Ham?" I asked, curiously.

"It's her favorite book," Joshua told me from his spot next to Marcus, his twin.

I nodded. "Well, it's as good as any," I said, opening the cover. Truth was, I was curious about it. I'd never read it, or any of his other books.

The other children settled around me, some of them leaning against me.

"Sam I am. I am Sam. Sam I am … That Sam-I-am! That Sam-I-am! I do not like that Sam-I am."(1)

They were silent as I read the book. One of them rested their chin on my shoulder. I didn't mind it. They were the only ones I didn't mind touching me.

"You do not like them. So you say. Try them! Try them! And you may. Try them, and you may, I say.

"Sam! You let let me be, I will try them. You will see." I turned the page. "Say! I like Green eggs and ham! I do! I like them, Sam-I-am! I would eat them in a boat. And I would eat them with a goat … I will eat them in the rain, and in the dark. And on a train. And in a car. And in a tree. They are so good, so good, you see!

"So I will eat them in a box. And I will eat them with a fox. And I will eat them in a house. And I will eat them with a mouse. And I will eat them here and there. Say! I will eat them _anywhere!_ I do so like Green eggs and ham! Thank you! Thank you, Sam-I-am!"(2)

As I finished, I closed the book, noticing that Eliza was already asleep. I shifted slightly, realizing that she wasn't the only one asleep. Evan chuckled again, but made no move to help. I didn't ask him to either.

"I'll help," Chris said, standing from where he was.

I gave him a small smile, staying still while he carefully moved the others to their makeshift beds. When all I had was Eliza, I easily stood, putting her on her bed and covering her up.

"Go to sleep, Chris," I told him. "You need the rest."

I got a small smile in return as the kid laid down. As he closed his eyes, I made my way over to Evan. He was smirking at me.

"I don't want you here while they sleep," I told him, seeing no need to sugarcoat it.

"I'm supposed to be watching you, kitten. Can't do that if I'm not here."

I frowned at him. "I'm not about to leave the kids alone. I'm not going to leave the house. Besides, I doubt anyone will look for me at a muggle orphanage."

Evan didn't move except to raise an eyebrow at me. "Alright," he said finally.

I blinked at him, barely managing to not question his decision. I should have.

Before I could say anything, he moved. Darting forward, he grabbed my wrist. I glared at him and tried to jerk it away … to no avail.

He tsked at me, sounding immensely amused. I hated it. A moment later, he reached up and snapped something onto my left wrist, the one he held. Only then did he release me.

"What the hell is this?" I demanded, voice an angry hiss. I was well aware of the sleeping children in the room.

He just smirked at me, the bastard. "You can go anywhere you want now, without a shadow, should I choose to allow it. That'll let me know where you are at, at all times. And, it's got a portkey built into it that I can activate."

I glared at him, jaw clenching. "Why? I think I'd prefer the shadow."

No, I didn't think, I _knew_ I'd prefer it.

Evan just grinned. "But you can slip a shadow, given time. The master isn't keen on losing his kitten again, so you wont be running away again."

I blinked. _Again? _Shit. "I thought it was agreed that I'd lost my memory." I drawled.

Evan's grin grew and this time I saw the intelligence in his gaze. "Kitten's more resourceful that others give him credit for. No one lese notices, but I do. You're gaze is calculating, waiting," he pushed himself off the wall, standing at his full height to look down at me, eyes fully detached from sanity. "You remember, little kitten. You aren't lost, you're exactly where you want to be. The master wants you, and things are _interesting _with you around."

I blinked at him, feeling the panic rise in my chest. My face didn't reveal it.

"Really?" I drawled, unimpressed. "Tomorrow you'll be telling me we boffed or something."

Evan laughed. "Oh no, not me."

His eyes continued to drill into mine, his grin making him look … dangerous. I could finally see why this Death Eater was so feared. I withheld the shudder that threatened to rise.

"You remember, little kitten, everything, and you wont be running again."

I could only watch as he walked to the doorway, feeling more lost and helpless than I had in a long time.

As soon as he left, my right hand rose to my left, looking for the latch on the damned thing. I didn't plan on taking it off yet, because I couldn't leave the children alone. However, it would be great to be able to slip it off when Evan wasn't expecting it and run.

I sighed, when I didn't find one. I knew I wouldn't be able to slip it off over my hand either, it was too tight for that. It would seem I was stuck until Evan took it off.

"Bloody brilliant," I muttered, moving over to my set of blankets.

At least the thing wasn't tacky … or large and bulky. It was small and simple, silver in color. It looked like a bracelet, which I could handle. Unfortunately, it looked like something that belonged on a girl's wrist. Still, there wouldn't be _too_ many questions.

_Why me?_ I wondered, glancing at the ceiling. Did the fates enjoy messing with me so much I couldn't even have a normal life? I sighed. It didn't matter, and all it would accomplish was making me depressed. Besides, I had other things to worry about.

Would Evan tell Voldemort what he thought he knew? If he did, Voldemort was likely to raid my mind again, probably more thoroughly than the last time. Which meant he'd probably find the memories I've hidden away … the same memories that kept trying to return.

I shook my head to clear it of thought. What I needed right now was sleep … and food, but that could wait until tomorrow.

* * *

"We weren't expecting to see you until next week," A tall figure said. It wore a long, dark robe, a hood up and hiding any of their features, but the voice identified it as a female. "Did something happen? Were you discovered?"

"Not yet," a second, male, replied.

"Then why are you here early? You know it's-"

"I know the dangers, perhaps better than you."

The first was silent a moment before bowing her head in an apology. "You're right, I'm sorry. What news do you bring?"

"Harry Potter has been found."

* * *

(1) & (2) – Dr. Seuss' 'Green Eggs and Ham'. I love that book.

Alright, here's chapter 7 for you all. Hope you enjoy it.

Oh, and for those of you who care (and because I'm lazy):

**The orphans:**

**Chris: **10 ½ (Changed it a year to give myself more room with the ages) sandy blond hair and blue eyes. He's quiet and kind of withdrawn, though that's thought to be because of his parents' deaths. He's very protective of the other 7 children.

**Sarah: **10, Brown hair, soft curls. Hazel eyes. Often with a smile, however small. She looks after the younger children, trying to keep them out of trouble. Has a slight crush on Chris.

**Marie: **9, Dark brown hair, thin and straight. Dark blue eyes. She and Marcus are generally seen together, racing or setting up a game.

**Joshua: **8, Auburn hair, worn long, to his shoulders. Generally worn down. Grey eyes. Loves to be read to, or read by himself. Twin to Marcus, two minutes older.

**Marcus: **8, Auburn hair, worn long, to his shoulders. Generally pulled back into a low ponytail. Grey eyes. Loves to run and play, and often pulls his twin along with him, though he will sit and be still when Joshua asks. Twin to Joshua, two minutes younger.

**Nicklas: **7, blond hair, gray-green eyes. Keeps to himself when others will let him. Doesn't fight too much when they pull him into a game.

**Jacob: **7, Black hair, short with hazel eyes. Quieter than Eliza, often found watching. Very inquisitive.

**Eliza: **6, Blond head of curls much like Shirley temple. Bright green eyes. Often happy and giggly. Has a puppy-dog face that only the cold hearted can resist. She always seems to know when Harry/Raven is near.

I made you wait a little longer than normal I know, but I did tell you I would update when I could and to not expect a specific day to it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: **_**My Past Will Always Catch up**_

**Author: **Allanasha Ke Kiri

**Summary:** After the deaths of both Ron and Hermione in their seventh year, Harry ran. The pressure was too much; they thought he'd be back, after he realized they needed him. But he never returned, just ran and hid in the one place he was sure no one would look for him.

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Sexual content**

**Pairing: Voldemort/Harry**

**Chapter 8**

When I awoke the next morning, I found myself unable to move. My instinct reaction was to lash out, rid myself of the restraints, but I remember where I was. Opening my eyes, I saw that I was right. Around me, and _on_ me were all eight children.

Eliza was half on my chest, one of her hands clenching my shirt tightly. I tried to lift my hand to rub her back, only to find myself unable to move it. Sarah was curled around it, her hand holding onto my wrist.

I shifted slightly, as far as I could go, wondering who was where. I managed to, somehow, brace myself on my elbows, as extended as they were, and lift myself to see. Jacob was on my stomach, thumb in his mouth. Beyond him, I saw that Joshua and Marcus had stolen my legs. Marie was tucked under my left arm, which Nicklas had hold of. Even in his sleep, he held on as if his life depended on it. Chris slept along my right side, the only one not actually touching me.

I really had become a human teddy bear. I didn't mind it much, though, except the not being able to move bit. Shifting once again, I wondered if I could wiggle out form under them … no, it didn't look like it. I was well and truly held down.

Carefully, I began the process of removing my hand from Sarah's grasp. She shifted in her sleep, but didn't wake up. As soon as I was sure of that, I worked on freeing my hand from Nicklas'. Once both hands were once again at my disposal, I shifted Eliza off my chest and freed my shirt from her hand. She whimpered, but didn't wake up.

I let out a silent sigh of relief. _Three left_, I thought. This one was going to be interesting. Placing one hand behind him, I slowly sat up, supporting his weight as I did so. Once up, I slid my other hand around him and twisted around placing him behind me. I was literally amazed that he hadn't woken up.

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, I turned to the two asleep on my legs. Well, Joshua could just be slipped off and laid below Marie. With a nod, I did just that, then set to work setting Marcus at my feet.

As soon as I could, I stood and moved away from them, careful not to step on any of them. That would be bad … very bad.

Once in the kitchen, I stretched, moaning when my back popped into place. I wondered how long they'd slept with me, how long I hadn't moved. Awhile, if my protecting back was anything to go by.

Well, at least they weren't crying, I decided. I remembered needing comfort when I was younger, needing it and not getting it. I was happy that I could give it to someone else.

* * *

I had just finished making breakfast when I suddenly gained 40 pounds. Glancing down, I saw that Eliza had attached herself to my leg. Blinking once, I reached down and ran my hand through her hair. I have to admit, I adored her hair. Even with it's curls it seemed as soft as silk. She'd be lucky if she never grew out of it.

She mumbled something into my pants, causing me to chuckle.

"What was that, Elly?" I asked. "I couldn't hear you."

"Weren't there when I woke," she said, with a sniffle, gazing up at me with tear filled eyes. "Thought you'd gone."

I knelt down to her height, forcing her to release my leg.

"I'm not going until Kesa's better," I told her. "I wont leave you alone."

Her hands clutched my shirt. "Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

"After?"

I ran another hand through her curls. "Well, I'm gonna … going-" she smiled. "-to have to go home eventually, and back to work."

"But not going to leave us?"

Her eyes were big as she asked, almost pleading.

I didn't answer right away. I wanted to agree with her, but I still planned on leaving, eventually. The longer my silence went, the sadder her eyes got.

"We don't know what life will bring," I told her, finally. "I don't want to promise something I can't keep. I will, however, promise that I'll be here as long as I can."

She nodded, eyes still dreadfully sad. So I pulled her into a hug just as the others came in.

"Morning," I told them before standing. "Breakfast is ready, so grab your plates.

Breakfast was pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs and toast. Marie wrinkled her nose at the eggs.

"I don't want those," she said.

I blinked at her. "But I made them."

"I don't like them," she whined.

"Neither do I," I lied.

She blinked at me, frowning. "Then why'd you make them?"

"Because I like them."

The poor girl looked utterly confused. "What?"

Take them," I told her, "and I'll show you what I mean."

She didn't look particularly happy, but didn't protest when I added the eggs to her plate. None of the other kids had any problems. The moment I sat down, Marie crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, as if daring me to make the eggs taste better. Instead of explaining it, I picked up a slice of toast and fork and began piling my eggs onto it. Once all of it was on, I put the other slice on top and bit down(1). Then raised an eyebrow at Marie.

The girl frowned at me, obviously not convinced, but I ignored her and continued with my breakfast. I did notice, however, that the other children were trying it. Dear me, it looked as though I'd started a trend. After another minute of silent sulking, Marie gave in and tried it as well, looking pleasantly surprised as she took her first bite.

"I thought Children weren't supposed to play with their food," came a familiar voice from the doorway.

"It's not playing if it's actually eaten," I replied, dryly, twisting slightly to see him more clearly. "Children, this is Evan, he's staying at my apartment for the time being."

Evan just eyed them. They eyed him back.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Evan," Chris said, politely, if warily. "Welcome to our home."

Evan's eyes landed on Chris, though he remained silent.

"Either say something or stop staring at him," I ordered … okay, I snapped, but Chris was looking more and more unnerved the longer Evan stared at him.

The man's gaze shifted to me, but he grinned, once again amused at my expense. It was seriously pissing me off.

"But it's so much fun to watch the kiddies squirm," he replied.

I shook my head at him, not at all impressed. "Why are you here?" I asked. I'd hoped he'd stay away, what with the bracelet and all.

"You're amusing. It was boring at your place, kitten."

"Kitten?" Sarah asked, face crunching up.

"The name he insists on calling me," I explained, dryly. "I've no idea why."

"Oh, but you do," he replied, gleefully.

I ignored him, returning to my breakfast. I saw him move out of the corner of my eye, but said nothing. Perhaps he was going into the kitchen. There was still some food left if he bothered to look. The children were all watching him.

I tensed a moment later when his hands landed on the table on either side of me. My hand clenched around my fork, seconds from snarling at him to move. Being this close to me, he made my skin crawled. Ever instinct I'd ever possessed was telling me to get the fuck away from him.

"So like a cat," he whispered, breath brushing my year. "Smooth and elegant, proud. A panther is what you are."

I froze, only for a moment. How the hell did he know? The only ones who'd known was Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore.

"And you are insane," I told him dryly. "Now remove yourself."

He didn't. "Oh, but Kitten, you're so fun."

"Leave him alone!"

My head turned, causing me to blink at Eliza in surprise. She never sounded angry, never. Yet, she did now. Evan looked at her too, though he was intrigued at her glare. I think I preferred amused.

"I said, leave him alone!" she repeated, grabbing Evan's arm (she was seated next to me) and pulled it back. Surprisingly, Evan went, tough I'm positive he let her force him away.

"Can't have him," she said, latching onto _my_ arm. "He's ours, mine. You wont take him from us. Wont let you. He's mine."

Bloody hell … Please tell me Eliza didn't have a crush on me.

Behind me, Evan laughed.

* * *

The rest of breakfast went by fairly uneventfully … after Eliza calmed down at any rate. I let the children go play, with a promise to join them later, and stormed my way to the living room. Thankfully, Evan followed. Unfortunately, he had that thrice-damned look again. I continued to amuse him. I didn't bloody _want_ to amuse him.

"I just want to know what the hell you're trying to pull," I told him, my voice marvelously calm.

He didn't respond right away. Instead, he moved to Kesa's chair and sat down. It was so wrong I couldn't even put it to words. That was Kesa's chair. Kesa, who was an old, spry, _nice_, fun, _sane,_ easy to talk to, and _sane_ lady. Evan did not belong in her chair.

I didn't say any of this out loud. It would have only amused him more, I'm sure.

"Not pulling anything, Harry."

I scowled. "The name is Raven. I don't give a bloody fuck what they say it is."

Evan blinked at me. "Good, that would hurt."

"What?" I asked, sounding absolutely exasperated.

"A bloody fuck. It would hurt, for at least one of the party. So it's a good thing you wouldn't give them one." He was smirking at me.

I blinked at him, completely mystified. He continued to smirk back, obviously enjoying that fact.

"You," I told him, blankly. "Are insane."

"But you prefer me over Mummy Bella," he grinned.

"I'm seriously debating that fact," I told him.

He didn't seem insulted. Figures.

I sighed and dropped onto the couch, lounging back. I _had _to get control of myself again.

"Aren't you worried?" he asked, leaning forward. His head was tilted slightly, making him look inquisitive.

"About what?" I drawled.

"That I'll tell the master your secret."

_Damn right I am!_

I shrugged. "What secret?" I asked.

His eyes died, growing cold, making him appear sane for the first time. My heart stopped.

"Don't play games, Raven," he said, causing me to blink. His voice caused every warning in me to go off, and I straightened in my seat, ready to move if I had to.

"See, didn't even take a thought. You're ready for a fight," he smirked at me, and it was darker than any of his others. "You remember, you never forgot. You ran, and you don't want to go back do you?"

I didn't respond. This side of Evan was making me itch for my wand … which was home. I never need my wand here, and with wizards around, I didn't want to fuck up. Right now, I was wishing I had it.

"Even now, you don't panic, do you?" his voice softened to a whisper, though no less dangerous. "You're thinking, but you're calm. Not even Bella is that calm with me."

I still didn't say anything. He fell silent, eying me. I wasn't going to speak first.

"Not going to defend yourself?" he asked. "Say you don't remember? Or do I scare you?"

_Damn it Potter, you're a Gryffindor, act like it!_

"Maybe," I answered with a shrug. "You're insane, Evan," I told him. "Everyone knows to be wary of insane killers."

"There it is again," he said, gleefully. "Little tidbits of knowledge that you shouldn't know but do. You spout it off so casually. Couldn't have known what I am, what we are, couldn't have known the word muggle a week ago, yet both words slip from your tongue easily."

"Nott spoke it a couple of times. It made sense."

Evan just grinned. "Maybe, maybe. But couldn't have known about me. You remember, Harry, you remember. Can't fool me."

I shook my head. "All hearsay," I drawled, sounding bored. "Besides, Voldemort's already done that mind thing. Wouldn't he have found something?" I rasied an eyebrow at the end of my question.

"You have it hidden somehow. Hidden so well he had no clue of it."

I rolled my eyes, though inside, I had a mild panic attack. How the hell was I supposed to make him doubt himself."

"Think what you-"

"I don't think I'll tell him."

I blinked at him. "What?"

Evan smirked, still looking more scary than Voldemort had ever accomplished. "It'll be much more fun to see him try and pull you to his side. Even more when he learns you haven't forgotten."

"Why aren't you telling him then?" I couldn't help but ask. "If it would be so _fun_, why not tell him your suspicions?"

His smirk grew into a grin and I knew I had, somehow, only confirmed his suspicions. How, I had no bloody clue.

"Because it's more amusing to watch you as is, trying so hard to forget, to pretend you never hated the people who claim to be family, who claims to be your lover."

I choked. "What?" I surged to my feet. "They planned it," I growled.

His eyes flashed with triumph.

_Shit_.

"Of course it was," he said, returning once again to the amused Evan. Good, I don't think I could have handled Creepy Evan for much longer.

"They had it all planned out. Bella as Mummy, Lucius as Daddy, Voldemort as a lover."

I sat once more. "And you? Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

He grinned. "You're friend and teacher."

I really couldn't help the groan that left my lips. What the hell had Voldemort been thinking?

* * *

Jonathan hadn't been happy when I'd called him and told him I wouldn't be in to work for a while. He'd went from unhappy to stunned when I explained the situation.

"You're taking care of orphans?" had been his question. He'd seemed amused. I seem to be amusing everyone these days. That didn't matter; all that mattered was that I got permission. I had no doubt that my co-workers would be told the reason for my absence. They'd have a hell of a laugh, I had no doubt.

Evan was gone again, for which I could only say "Thank Merlin."

Currently, the kids were somewhere in the house, and I was in the living room, a book in my lap, eyes unseeing. Evan knew my secret. He couldn't not after I'd fucked up. For now, he seemed content to keep it, but for how long? My eyes slid to my wrist, where the band still lay. He would eventually, I knew it. It was only a matter of time. Leaning back in my seat, I frowned slightly. This was bad, very bad. Silently, I fingered the 'bracelet'.

This was very bad.

* * *

(1) I not only despise scrambled eggs, they make me gag when I try to eat them. Literally, they're the only thing I've ever found that makes my gag reflex work. However, if I eat them between slices of toast, I can get them down. It's very strange. The taste is completely different … for me at least.

Now, I'm sure everyone is wondering when the slash will begin. Well, obviously not this chapter, but there is something ... a little something . written in for chapter 9.


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: **_**My Past Will Always Catch up**_

**Author: **Allanasha Ke Kiri

**Summary:** After the deaths of both Ron and Hermione in their seventh year, Harry ran. The pressure was too much; they thought he'd be back, after he realized they needed him. But he never returned, just ran and hid in the one place he was sure no one would look for him.

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Sexual content**

**Pairing: Voldemort/Harry**

**Chapter 9**

I was out of work for three days before Kesa returned. She insisted she was fine, despite the fact that she looked like death warmed over. With the kid's agreement, we forced her into bed, if only for the rest of the day. She wouldn't agree to anything else. The woman had an odd glint in her eye when she agreed, and one I didn't want to figure out. It probably wouldn't bode well for me.

I stayed one more night to make sure everything was settled, and to make sure the children knew to go easy on her for a while. Then, I returned to the club. As I'd thought, the other dancers mobbed me. They snickered and patted my back, congratulating me. With each touch, I could feel my eye twitching.

Finally, I'd had enough and shifted away from the next person trying to touch me.

"The matron is back," I told them, blankly. "The children are well."

That was all that mattered.

"Yeah, that's great and all, Rae," Michael said. He was blond, and one of the three that was constantly trying to get me to 'hang out'. "But what we want to know is how this came about."

I withheld a sigh, and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "One of the children called and wanted my help keeping the others calm." I told them blankly.

"Yeah, but how'd you meet them in the first place?" David asked. "You're not exactly very … social, Raven."

I raised an eyebrow. "I don't see how that's any of your concern."

"Aw, come on Rae. We're just curious. You're so tightlipped about your life that we get excited with every little nugget." Michael's voice was very reasonable, but damn it, I didn't want to 'share'.

After a quick inner debate, I decided to give in. I didn't want them angry with me … well, peeved at me. It made for awkward working conditions.

"The orphanage is near my home," I told them, shortly. "I visit them at least once a week. They trust me."

There, that explained things. Not to their satisfaction, perhaps (as their looks suggested), but it was all they were going to get. And they knew it too. I moved through them before they could ask any farther questions.

"Raven."

I was stopped in front of my mirror. Turning, I faced my boss.

"I trust everything's alright?"

I nodded once.

"Good. The customers have missed you," he said.

I shrugged. So? It would just increase their need; probably increase my pay as well. Which was good. There was no way Kesa would be able to pay her hospital bills on her own.

Jonathan sighed. "Follow me," he said.

For the second time that night, I withheld a sigh and followed him to his office. Upon entering behind him, I paused, blinking at the large tank in front of his desk. Or rather, the snake within the tank.

"You know they'll be expecting something special," he said. "And it's been awhile since you did it last."

I nodded once, my eyes on the snake. I was familiar with it, as it was the one Jonathan always borrowed for the dance. I really didn't want to do it this time because I _knew_ there'd be Death Eater's in the audience, and I knew they'd connect pieces, and I knew it would get back to Voldemort. However, I couldn't very well turn him down. I'd been the one to suggest it originally. That was about three years ago.

"Very well, Jonathan," I said finally.

"Great. I'll leave you alone for a few, and let you do whatever it is you do." And Jonathan was gone, closing the door behind him. He hadn't even told me to all him Jon … perhaps he was afraid I'd change my mind? No, it was more likely his fear of snakes was getting in the way.

Shaking my head, I moved forward and knelt in front of the tank.

::Speaker,:: the snake said with a brief nod of its head.

::Saren,:: I replied, softly.

::You are to hold me again.:: It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway.

::Do you object, Saren?::

::No, it will be good to be away from this prison,:: he hissed back disdainfully.

::I am sorry Saren, it is not within my power to free you.::

The snake was silent a moment as it shifted around to stare at me. ::Do not worry, Speaker. My imprisonment is not your problem. You give me a taste of freedom. That is enough.::

Not, it wasn't, but I really couldn't do anything else. I didn't say anything as I shoved back the lid, reaching in and pulling the albino constrictor out. He let out a pleased hiss as he was draped across my shoulders. Bloody hell, I'd forgotten how heavy he was. Well, no matter, I still had several hours until we preformed. Plenty of time to get used to the weight.

I left the office with Saren's tail draped down my side and wrapped around my waist. His head rose up and lay on my opposite shoulder, looking behind me. Everyone gave me strange looks as I walked passed. I'm sure I knew why. None of them would want a snake that big anywhere near their throat, not when it could crush it in seconds. Saren wouldn't hurt me though; speakers were too rare for them to want to harm us. We were a … curiosity.

I ignored them as I made my way to a side room. It was where all our spare clothes lay, because it was just easier than keeping it all at home. Especially when there was a sudden change in the schedule, like now.

I made my way over to my section. Normally, the dancers shared clothing; it just made things easier, and let everyone have a much larger wardrobe. However, no one else was either as short, or as … petite as I was. I blamed it on the Dursley's and how often I'd gone hungry, the memory got back where they belonged.

I silently shifted through the clothing until I found a pair of leather pants. I wouldn't wear a shirt. The snake covered most of me anyway. So there really wasn't any need. I slung it over my arm, running my hand over part of the snake as I left the room again. Saren hissed teasingly at one of the dancers, making him step back warily.

I shook my head slightly. For some reason, Saren enjoyed making the others nervous. Said it was fun. I'd given up telling them Saren couldn't (wouldn't) hurt them. They never listened, and as long as nothing happened, it really didn't matter.

When I got back to my mirror (more like my vanity really), I put the pants down. There was still a while before I had to change.

* * *

The dance is always different, because the snake moves. So while it always starts out the same, me on stage with Saren draped over the nook of my elbows and behind my back, it quickly changes. He's allowed to do whatever he wants during it, including trying to get away. I have to dance and make sure he stays on me. It gets very interesting when he decides to tighten and make it look like he's attempted to crush me. He did that tonight.

There's an element of danger to dancing with Saren … for the audience anyway. They don't know that he wouldn't hurt me. Especially since I'm a predator on stage, and completely at the mercy of the snake tightly wrapping itself around my small form.

Of course, when that happens, I play it up, letting my breath become quicker, shorter, but still moving. Always moving.

Voldemort was there. I'd felt it the moment he entered the building. He'd seen me dance. He'd seen me dance with the snake. I knew he'd find out eventually, but I'd been hoping for a little more time. He'd probably try and turn this on me too, know that he knew I danced with one. He might not have heard Saren speak, but when is a snake ever silent for long?

My mind grumbled as I left the building, once again dressed in the clothes I'd arrived in.

I could only hope he didn't suspect I was playing him. If he did, I was dead, dead with no chance of escape. Glancing down at my wrist, I wondered just how likely escape was.

I was mildly surprised to find that neither Voldemort nor any Death Eater awaited me. For a moment, suspicion rose. Where the hell were they? Surely they wouldn't have just left?

Shrugging, I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and started on my way home. Bed was sounding like a very good idea right now. My schedule was so screwed up, what with getting up early for the kids, and going to sleep before midnight so I _could_ get up early. My body was trying to tell me I'd stayed up too damn late. Couldn't exactly say I disagreed. I was looking forward to falling over once I got home.

I waved to a few dancers heading home … or not. At least one had a customer. He waved back, and the customer smiled at me. I ignored it. Maybe not the best course of action, for most, but it worked for me. Jonathan even agreed, even if he wished I'd be more open with my co-workers.

Shaking my head, I cleared it of such thoughts. My pace was even as I walked. I was in no hurry to get home. I hadn't seen Evan since that day at the orphanage, and I was glad of it, but I wasn't looking forward to seeing him now either.

Evan was currently my least favorite Death Eater … not surprising since he knew my secret.

I rubbed my forehead as I put my key into my lock, I couldn't help but wonder what he'd do if things stopped being entertaining. I really didn't want to think of that, so I shook it from my head as I entered and locked the door.

"Harry."

My eyes closed for a moment. Shit, that hadn't just been a headache. "I prefer Raven," I told the Dark Lord as I hung up my coat and bag.

"But that is not who you are," he answered.

_Hypocrite._

I shrugged, outwardly uncaring as I turned. The Dark Lord was sitting on my couch … no, lounging was a much better description. He looked quite at home. I wished he didn't. Evan was sitting in the chair. If I wanted to sit, I'd have to take the couch. Damn.

"Is there something you wanted, Volemort?" I asked, voice vaguely polite, even though it sounded bored. He raised an eyebrow at me, but didn't reply right away. Instead, he watched me dig through my bag and pulled out my phone … my dead phone. It'd forgotten my charger when I'd gone to the orphanage. I slipped the phone into my pocket and turned back to my … guest.

"Want something to drink?" I asked, just to show that I could be polite.

"No," he answered.

I shrugged, and went to the kitchen, well aware of his eyes on me as I moved. I ignored them as I ignored any other … only I knew there was only so long he'd wait until he'd start pushing the lover bit of my 'past'. But if he thought he'd manage, he had another thing coming.

I returned a moment later with a can of Pespi, and a carefully blank face, and sank down onto the couch. No use letting him know I was uneasy. Glancing over, I saw that Evan was smirking. Well, at least one of us was enjoying this. Sarcasm, I feel your sting.

"I trust you have been well, Harry?"

He was doing it on purpose now. "Well enough," I replied, opening my can.

I leaned back, twisting slightly so I could look at Voldemort and still be comfortable. I suppose I was lounging as well. How quaint. I took a sip from my can as though I were drinking wine.

"Evan tells me have been … watching muggle children."

I shrug on shoulder, the one not resting against the couch. "So?"

"I don't want you associating with muggles."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Well, then I suppose it's a good thing you have no say over how I spend my time." I took another sip.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed at me. "I am your lord-"

"No," I interrupted. "You _were_ my lover." I was surprised I managed not to stumble over the word … or choke … or gag. "Right now, you're not even that. And I don't have that … skull thing the others have, so you weren't my 'lord'. I say again, you have no say over how I spend my time."

I stood, considering this conversation over. However, I didn't do more than turn before his hand was round my forearm. A pained hiss left my lips and I tried to jerk it away. His grip tightened, forcibly turning me around. When he released me, I took a step back, but both of his hands grabbed my upper arms. Bloody hell, that hurt. I think I'd start wearing sleeves; if nothing else to stay away from the skin-to-skin contact with Voldemort. Him being this close was bad enough.

"You would do well not to anger me, Harry," he hissed. "You are completely powerless in my grasp."

I jerked back, hoping to get away, but only succeeded in spilling some of my soda. His grip tightened more. God, it hurt. My eyes closed, trying to block out the pain, and a whimper forced its way up my throat.

He released me. Not having expected it, I slumped to the ground, taking slow deep breaths. The pain was gone at least … well, most of it.

"I'll have Severus make you that potion," Voldemort said. "I keep forgetting my touch pains you again."

_Bull._

I stood, my eyes blank. We stared at each other a moment, both silent.

"Was that a common occurrence?"

"I've never hit you."

While that was true … "That's not what I asked." My voice was hard and cold.

"I have forced you to stay in such a way, but it didn't hurt you as it does now."

_Liar. Just one more lie on top of everything else._

I raised an eyebrow. "I need my sleep," I told him, turning away towards the kitchen. This pretend past didn't matter, because I was gone as soon as I could get the chance. "I've got an early day tomorrow."

"Muggle children," Evan said, speaking up for the first time. My eyes are still cold when I glare at him.

"I do not want you seeing those _muggles_," Voldemort growled.

I ignored him, entering the kitchen. Voldemort followed me. He didn't look happy.

"Not that it's any of your concern, but that's not what I meant."

Voldemort frowned. "What are you doing-"

"Is none of your concern," I told him. His eyes flashed angrily. He doesn't like to be interrupted. Goody.

"You would do well not to make me angry, Harry," he was so not happy with me. I really didn't give a fuck.

"Or what? You'll touch me again? Do that pain spell? There's only so long that'll be effective, Voldemort. And it doesn't scare me. Hurts like a bitch, but it doesn''t scare me." I leaned against the counter. Why was I even bothering to explain this to him? Hell if I knew. "I really don't care if you approve, Voldemort. It's none of your business what I do."

His eyes narrowed further.

"Just what the hell is your problem with muggles anyway?" I demanded, crossing my arms and leaning against the counter. I already knew, but I wasn't supposed to. "You've never met them, so why do you hate them so much?"

"They're muggles," he sneered. "They're beneath us."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Mm-hmm … whatever."

Voldemort's hand twitched, wanting his wand no doubt. He didn't draw it, which was surprising. After a silent (very stressful) minute, he turned, apparating away.

Evan was sitting on the arm of the chair when I left the kitchen.

"He's not happy."

I snorted. "No shit? I hadn't noticed."

Evan smirked at me. "Yet you insist on angering him."

I shrugged, moving passed him to the hallway. "Habit, I suppose."

Evan laughed.

* * *

Sorry it's been so long since my last update. But I'm getting ready for college and that kinda doesn't leave time to type up any chapters I manage to write down. Not that my muse has been very co-operative about that. *makes a face*

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this.


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: **_**My Past Will Always Catch up**_

**Author: **Allanasha Ke Kiri

**Summary:** After the deaths of both Ron and Hermione in their seventh year, Harry ran. The pressure was too much; they thought he'd be back, after he realized they needed him. But he never returned, just ran and hid in the one place he was sure no one would look for him.

**Rating: M**

Warnings: Sexual content

**Pairing: Voldemort/Harry**

**Chapter 10**

"Harry!"

Everyone stopped. I froze. A moment later, a female barreled into me, pinning my arms to my sides. I could only stand there and blink at the black hair in my face.

"I missed you, little Potter," she said, twisting slightly, taking me with her. I think I was in shock. Maybe that was why I wasn't escaping…

Who the hell told her where I worked? My money was on Voldemort … or Nott. Neither liked me at the moment.

"You didn't come to see me or anything. I was oh so lonely without you."

At the sound of my co-workers laughter, I finally managed to break away from her. Hopefully, my eyes didn't show my shock.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, frowning.

She slumped and pouted, looking like a child.

"Who is this charming lady, Raven?" Michael asked, coming up next to me. He knew better than to touch me, thank Merlin.

"Bellatrix Lestrange."

He grinned at me. "Lover?"

I shuddered, violently. Michael and the others stared at me. Bellatrix giggled. She bloody _giggled_.

"Mother," she said, grinning.

Everyone blinked at her.

"Mother?" David asked, amazed.

She laughed and attached herself to my arm. I held in a pained groan.

"Well, not really," I could hear her pouting. "But I've all but adopted him. Before he got lost, I was his mummy Bella."

Snickers rang through the dancers. My eyes narrowed at them, but it didn't make them stop. I can only imagine how _not_ intimidating I was at the moment. What with my _mummy bella_ hanging on my arm.

"You've been summoned, Harry," she said, pulling away from me.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm about to start working," I told her.

"He's not going to like being ignored."

I shrugged, then decided it wasn't in my best interest to _completely_ ignore him.

"Tell him I'll come when my shift is over. Sometime after midnight."

She blinked once, then grinned. "He'll be happy with that," she told me, leaving down (yes, she was taller than me) to kiss me on my forehead. I held in a grimace.

She grinned at me once more before prancing away.

"Summoned?" Michael asked, curiously.

I shrugged. "She's a servant. Apparently before I forgot everything, he was rather fond of me. He wants to make sure I'm well, or something."

Kind of true … and it'd get Michael off my back. The others seemed to buy it.

"No offense, Rae," David said as we entered the club. "But your mum's seems a little …"

"Insane?" I offered. "I noticed."

"Oh, good."

* * *

My shift ended much too quickly, the walk home went much too fast, and talking to Evan was much too easy. It led to me standing before Voldemort before I wanted to be … not that I ever wanted to be standing in front of him, but the thought remains. My distaste didn't show though. If there was one thing I'd gotten good at over the years, it was a blank face.

I stood before his desk, arms crossed, the picture of annoyance. The only thing missing was a tapping foot, but I didn't want to be completely cliché … besides there was only so much he'd put up with. Voldemort wasn't even looking at me. He was paying attention to papers on his desk.

"I don't have time to wait all night," I drawled, finally.

He didn't look up. "Had you come when I summoned, you would not have to wait."

I raised an eyebrow. "If you don't have time for me, I'll come back another time."

I turned to go.

"Stay."

I frowned. "I'm not a _dog_," I told him, continuing towards the door.

Silence. Maybe I'd actually get away?

"Harry," he sounded exasperated. That was an interesting change.

I stopped, turning to raise an eyebrow at him. He stood from his desk, waving me forward.

"Come here, Harry."

He was being odd ….

I moved back across the room. His eyes looked me over. Muggles and Wizards are all the same. Once in front of the desk, I crossed my arms, keeping my eyebrow raised at the Dark Lord. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a vial.

"The potion I promised you," he said, placing it on the desk well within my reach. "The one to take away your pain where I'm involved."

I nodded.

Did I believe that was all it would do? No. After all, there wasn't any precedent to what we had (connection wise), so it was unlikely that it'll only affect the link.

"It lasts about 3 hours," Voldemort said. "Though it does dull all of your pain senses."

Oh, he's actually telling me this? Wow … guess he does want me to trust him … Insert grimace here.

"I see," I said, reaching for the vial. Picking it up, I examined the liquid within. Not that I had any hope of recognizing it. The potion was light purple, almost a lavender, and thin. Well, that'd make it easier to go down.

"It's not poison," Voldemort told me. "I told you before, if I wanted you dead, you'd already be so."

My eyebrow rose again. "I'm not allowed to observe it?" I asked. "I'm _trying_ to remember … This potion doesn't ring any bells."

Of course it didn't, I never took it. Voldemort didn't know that though. He gave me a small smile … it looked condescending.

"Of course, Harry," he said. My eyes narrowed at him. I really didn't like that.

I refrained from saying anything, focusing instead on uncorking the vial. My scar was throbbing. And since I planned on going to bed after this, I could deal with three hours of dull pain sensors. I tossed it back with a grimace. A moment later, my eyes fell closed; the pain in my head faded.

"Good to know it still works," Voldemort said.

I wondered what his excuse would have been had it not worked. Probably that I'd grown immune at some point. Nonetheless, I 'hmmed' lightly, opening my eyes. The first thing I noticed was Voldemort, smirking at me.

"Better?"

"Yes."

"Good."

I watched him with wary eyes as he walked … stalked around the desk.

"It is amazing how much you haven't changed."

I raised an eyebrow. Haven't changed? What the fuck?

He chuckled. "Well, you have changed, but you're still fiery tempered, impulsive, quick to act.

He raised a hand, laying it against my cheek. I instinctively flinched, but no pain came. Impressive. I still didn't want him touching me though.

"So beautiful," he murmured, causing me to blink.

Next thing I knew, his lips were on mine.

Fuck.

I froze, eyes widening in disbelief. His hand slipped behind my head, holding me in place. His other hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer. The kiss deepened, and his tongue was in my mouth. I don't even know how it got there, I didn't remember opening it.

My tongue was coaxed into moving with his. A small noise worked its way up from the back of my throat, but I didn't bother (didn't want to) identify it. My hands rose to rest on his chest, but they didn't push him away. He pulled me closer, pressing against me with a groan.

Finally, I managed to pull back. He let me, but didn't let my body move away from his. The last time I'd been kissed had been five months ago by a drunkard. So not the same …damn, I really needed to get laid if I was thinking Voldemort's kiss was great. Not that I'd had a lot of experience mind; just the once with Cho, and several drunkards who didn't understand 'no'.

Voldemort smirked at me. I just raised an eyebrow (again).

"Men have hurt for less than that," I told him, relieved that my voice was even.

"Good," was his reply. "I don't share."

The Dark Lord was possessive? Oh joy. My eyebrow arched higher, unimpressed.

"I don't believe I agreed to anything."

His smirk grew. "You didn't, yet. I still don't share, Harry."

"Hmm. I really need my sleep, Voldemort," I told him, pushing slightly on his chest in the hopes that he'd release me. He didn't, of course.

"Running already? That's not like you."

I blinked, suddenly insulted. "I'm not running away."

_Liar_. It's amazing how much my inner voice sounds like Voldemort right now…

"I have to get up early. It's the day I promised to see those muggle children you seem to detest so much."

His good mood seemed to slip away. Good. I was familiar with this Voldemort.

"And what would they say if they knew what you were?" he asked, voice not happy.

I shrugged, wishing he'd release me. "Don't know. It's a good thing they wont find out from me, isn't it?" My voice held a challenge in it, but I knew he wouldn't do it. He didn't want any muggles knowing about us."

He released me. I took the opportunity to step away from him. Voldemort walked towards a bookshelf. I leaned against his desk, resting my hands on the wood as I watched him.

He turned back to me. "If I am going to allow this-"

I snorted. Allow? When, exactly had I asked for permission?

"-You're going to spend more time here, around your own kind."

I blinked at him.

"You will bring your wand, and re-learn everything you've forgotten."

"And when, exactly, am I supposed to do this? Between the orphanage-" Voldemort started. "-and work, I don't have any free time."

He was silent a moment. "You only go to the muggles once a week. You need not come on that day."

Oh, how kind! I nearly gagged.

"Well, I suppose I could do that," I said, thoughtfully. It could be nice to use my wand again.

Voldemort smiled, and it was a very predatorily smile. I watched as he stalked forward, forcing my nerves down so my gaze was completely unimpressed. He didn't stop until his hands were resting on either side of me. My head was tilted back, staring up at him.

"Where did you get that snake?" he asked.

I blinked. I hadn't been expecting that. "A friend of the bosses," I told him with a shrug. "We've danced a couple of times."

"I would love to see it again."

"I'll let you know the next time Seran joins me onstage."

He smirked again, leaning down so that he was barely a breath from my lips. I tensed.

"I was thinking of a more private showing."

Before I could reply, his lips were on mine. It was more demanding than the last one. I had no choice but to submit to it, especially when his hand tangled in my hair. He leaned forward, forcing me backwards and off balance. My hands rose to his shoulders to keep me at least partly upright.

When he pulled away, I was literally breathless. I blinked at him.

"I should go," I told him after a moment, my voice normal (thank Merlin and whatever gods are up there). "As I've said before, I've an early day."

"Of course," Voldemort replied, released me. He reached around me, grabbing a package that had been on his desk, and handed it to me. "More of the potion. Use it when I summon you."

I nodded, waiting for him to move before getting off the desk. Which, now that I thought about it, probably hadn't been the best of places to lean. He probably thought I was inviting him or something.

"I will," I told him before walking to the door. I felt his eyes on me the entire way, but I didn't look back.

I didn't dare.

* * *

Okay, so it's literally been forever since I've updated this … but I've been busy with life and … stuff. Sorry about the really long wait everyone. I hope this makes up for it.

And look! Voldemort/Raven(Harry) action. Finally. What do you guys think? Does it seem forced or anything? I hope everyone seemed to stay in character here. Tell me if you think I completely frelled it or something.


	12. Chapter 12 Voldemort

**My Past Will Always Catch Up**

**By Allanasha Ke Kiri**

**Chapter 11 – Voldemort**

It was simple enough getting Lucius and Bellatrix to take the amnesiac wizard shopping. Lucius was quite tired of seeing Harry in muggle clothing, and felt he needed to be more properly dressed for his supposed position. Bellatrix had just wanted to spoil him. Perhaps she was taking her role a bit too seriously …

_No,_ he thought as he looked over a report. The more seriously she appeared to take it, the more likely the boy … young man was to believe it. He'd have to get Lucius and Harry to spend some time together in the near future so he could play his part as the boy's father figure.

On the other hand, Harry didn't seem to be getting along with Evan particularly well. And when he'd asked, Evan hadn't made much sense.

_"The kitten's thoughts remain his own and for only him to see. Do not presume that even I can know what goes on within his head, for surely it will be wrong."_

Voldemort shook his head as his follower's words. As loyal as he was, perhaps assigning Harry to Evan wasn't the best idea. Voldemort could rarely understand the man, even at the best of times. Then again, he was probably the best person he could have assigned to keep the boy safe. Evan wouldn't let anyone else take Harry from him, not without a fight worthy of a master.

He leaned back in his seat, wondering when the last time Evan had had a challenge was. Not for several years at least. Not that it ever seemed to hurt him any.

"Perhaps I'll assign him as Harry's teacher," he mused. Merlin knew there was no one better for it. Except perhaps Lucius, but Evan would expect more from the boy-who-lived, and would, in the end, probably get more out of him, and at a faster pace.

Of course, all of this had the unpleasant possibility of bringing Harry's memories back, despite their false start. Hopefully, by that time, he'd already gotten the boy's loyalty to him so that when he did start to remember, it wouldn't matter … or it would matter less. Then again, perhaps he wouldn't appreciate being lied to.

One could never tell with a Gryffindor. They're too emotional, too irrational, and they almost never did anything you expected them too. Unless of course, you planned for every possibility, which he'd had to do with blasted Harry Potter.

Of course, then the boy had gone and done the one thing he'd never expected him to do. He'd run away. And then he'd managed to keep all of them running in circles searching for him for five years, and all along he's been living as a muggle.

His lips pulled back in a disgusted sneer. He could only blame the boy's lost memory for that … though that still brought up the question as to how it disappeared. If only he could ask the boy, it would surely answer a lot of questions. Of course, if he could ask the boy, he wouldn't be amnesiac, and would most likely be dead. He had no use for a Harry Potter that was against him.

A loyal Harry Potter on the other hand, well, that was a completely different matter. The boy was strong. As much as he hated to admit it at times, it was the truth. And he'd only grown stronger in the years he'd been missing. It was like his magic had slowly simmered beneath the surface, slowly building and waiting for the perfect time to let itself out. And with five years of no use … or of little use as the case was.

How did Harry Potter learn sex magic? His lips pulled back into a puzzled frown as he remembered the two times he'd been at the muggle establishment. Both times Harry had somehow managed to fill the room with it. Keeping the muggles bound to him, unwavering, and longing, but none of them daring to touch.

Harry had raised it, and used it, drawing … something from every muggle, and wizard, there before drawing it back as he'd finished. It had been extraordinary to feel it brush against him, seeking him and begging him to allow it in, but Voldemort hadn't. His magic was his own, and he wasn't going to allow anyone else any of it, even if it would be easily replaced.

Could he be doing it completely by instinct? It was possible. The little he knew about the Potter heir was that he was magically powerful, had an insane amount of luck, and had an innate talent for magic. Ever since they'd found him, it was almost like it surrounded him, cloaking him in a protective shell.

It was one of the reasons he hadn't killed the boy, why he'd decided to look deeper, and why he was pulling this ruse. Harry's magic was practically solid around him. When he was close, Voldemort could practically see his magic. No one else had seemed to notice, but he had. Harry had only grown stronger.

But why was his magic acting as a shield? And from what? These were two questions he was going to find out, eventually. Until then, he had the seductive wizard to himself. None of his followers would dare touch anything he'd claimed as his. And he had claimed Harry a long time ago.

* * *

Several hours later, Voldemort found himself in the library, immersed in one of his many books of the Dark Arts. He was pulled from it when he sensed Harry's presence enter the room. Keeping his eyes on the book in front of him, he listened as the boy made his way through the shelves to where he stood. Harry made little noise as he moved, but it didn't matter. Voldemort didn't need his ears to know he was there. He could feel the boy.

Harry stopped several feet away, but didn't announce his presence. He could feel Harry's eyes on him, intent and searching. He wondered what he was looking for, what he saw … what he was thinking.

Voldemort remained silent, waiting to see what Harry would do, but after several minutes had passed and the boy still hadn't made a sound, Voldemort felt his patience dwindle. Not that he allowed it to show in his voice. Mustn't scare off his supposed consort after all.

"Are you done observing me?" he asked, calmly, eyes never leaving the book before him. "Or should I pretend I haven't realized you're there for a few more minutes?"

From the corner of his eye, he had the distinct pleasure of watching Harry jump. So, he had surprised the boy. Good.

"I'm done," he replied, his mild surprise echoing in his voice.

"Good," Voldemort replied, glancing up at the boy with a smirk. "Because I couldn't have lasted much longer anyway."

Harry raised an eyebrow, but refused to say anything, so Voldemort took the opportunity to look him over. The first thing he noticed was the way Harry's magic wrapped around him protectively. It settled about his shoulders like a cape, swirled in warning and invitingly. But the boy seemed oblivious to it.

He looked good in his dark blue robes, better than he used to look in his oversized muggle clothing from several years ago anyway. As his eyes trailed over Harry, Voldemort surprised himself with a sudden surge of lust. He shoved it back down, not letting it show on his face as he nodded his approval.

"They suit you," he said, breaking the silence. The boy just raised another eyebrow, not looking impressed in the least. He wondered what Harry was thinking.

He shrugged and crossed the room to sit at the other end of the couch, causing Voldemort to have to twist to keep his eyes on him. The smirk never left his lips.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked, actually curious as to the boy's day in Diagon Alley.

He shrugged again. "Shopping has never been my favorite past time," he replied.

Voldemort chuckled lightly. "No, I don't imagine it would have been."

"I met Ronald's brothers," Harry offered, suddenly, surprising Voldemort.

Which ones? He wondered silently as he raised an eyebrow in question.

"Fred and George, I believe."

The twins. Two of the only ones not to go into hiding after he'd taken over. He'd allowed the twins to live because of how little action they'd taken during the war, and because they were a pair of pureblood wizards who would produce powerful children.

"Ah, yes, the pranksters," Voldemort murmured, keeping his voice light. "A brilliant pair of wizards. Did you recognize them?"

If he had, he was going to have to do something to slow his memory return. The boy couldn't remember yet … if ever.

"No …" Harry replied, as though hesitant to say it. Voldemort raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue. After a moment, he did.

"But … it was … painful," each word was said slowly, as though tasting them and not sure if it was what he meant.

"Painful?" Voldemort asked, curious. The boy nodded silently, his blank emerald eyes turning to glance around the room, probably to avoid his own red ones.

"It's understandable," he said, calmly. "They do share a remarkable resemblance to your friend."

"I know," the boy replied, causing Voldemort's eyes to narrow in suspicion.

"You know?"

Harry glanced back at him, head tilting slightly in an innocent gesture. "They showed me pictures," he said, thoughtfully. "Of Ronald, Hermione, and me. So now, I have a face for a name … but still no true recollection."

Voldemort relaxed slightly, barely noticeable as he nodded. "That is too bad," he murmured. "I had hoped … well, no matter, I'm sure your memories will come back to you in time." He frowned lightly. "Would you like me to ask Severus to brew you a potion that might encourage it?"

Harry gave him a long slow blink, as though trying to process something. Finally, he shook his head, the action smooth.

"No," he said. "Perhaps it's best if it returns on its own."

Voldemort nodded silently. "Very well, Harry," he replied, satisfied in the boy's response.

They fell silent, and Voldemort was surprised to find it comfortable. He had no desire to break it as he continued to look over the boy. Harry was leaning back against the couch, his eyes closed in thought. Or what Voldemort presumed was thought. He certainly didn't look tired.

"What happened to you, Harry?" Voldemort asked, surprising himself at the question.

Harry eyes opened and he blinked at him. "What do you mean?" he asked, voice just as blank as it always was.

"You're memory. What happened to it?"

The boy blinked again, then shrugged lightly. "I don't know. The first thing I remember is waking up in a warm bed. Ellisa came in shortly after, surprised to see me awake. She'd found me in an alley nearby, hurt."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed as the boy's expression seemed to gentle a bit, sorrow flickering across his eyes.

"She didn't know me, who I was, or what had happened, but she took me in and nursed me back to health."

"Do you still see her?"

"She's dead." The boy's expression closed off again. "She was killed a year later by a muggle thief."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. Well, that was interesting. "And why do you dance?"

Harry seemed startled by the question. He blinked at Voldemort in surprise, and didn't reply right away. Finally, he shrugged lightly.

"Because I can," he answered. "Because I'm good at it. Because they want me but can never touch me …" his voice dropped until Voldemort had to strain to hear it. "Because it's a sense of control."

"I see," Voldemort replied, after a moment. Yes, he could understand all of that, had experienced some of that. Of course, he'd done it in school, and hadn't done anything quite like Harry was doing. But he had enjoyed stringing his 'friends' along, making them beg. He'd relished the control he'd had over them. He still did.

He leaned forward, resting an elbow on his leg as Harry looked at him, almost curiously.

"I know something else you're good at," he said.

Harry raised an eyebrow, not giving a verbal reply.

"Magic," Voldemort told him. "It will take time, but you'll get there again. You were quite a sight to behold."

Not really. Dumbledore had never trained the boy to his full potential. He'd kept him weak and naïve, but that would soon change. Voldemort could feel the power that came off of the boy. And this time it would be his, completely.

Standing swiftly, he closed the short distance between him and Harry and inserted a leg between the boy's so he could stand between them. Then, he leaned down, placing a hand on either side of him, like he had just a few days before. Harry tensed beneath him, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he hovered over him, but Voldemort took no notice of it as he swooped down, catching Harry's lips with his own.

Harry tensed even more, twitching as he jerked back. Voldemort frowned at him, about to demand why he'd pulled away.

"I didn't take the potion," Harry admitted, before he could. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you today."

Voldemort sighed as he pulled away, annoyed that his plans had been put on hold. "Very well," he murmured.

As he stepped further away from Harry, his eyes caught the glint of something silver on the boy's wrist.

"What is that?" he demanded, motioning to it.

Blinking, Harry raised his arm and blinked at the bracelet. "This? Evan put it on me. Said it would keep me from getting lost again."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. Was that so? Why hadn't he been told about it?

"I see."

"I should go," Harry said, smoothly rising from the couch. As the boy passed him, Voldemort reached out, snagging his sleeve. Harry paused, glancing at him with those blank eyes.

"You should stay," he said. "You belong here, Harry. Not with those muggles."

Harry shrugged. "I like it there," he said.

"You're mine, Harry," Voldemort told him, anger filtering into his voice, an anger that was echoed in Harry's eyes.

It flashed through them, lighting them with its fury and sending Voldemort back years. The graveyard when Harry was 14 … the Ministry when he was fifteen. Every time they'd met, his eyes had flashed angrily.

And then it was gone, the emotion locked behind emotionless emerald eyes. And his magic flared, briefly.

"I am not yours," Harry replied, his voice blank and uncaring. "I am not a possession."

With that, the boy walked away, and Voldemort let him. Because he knew what Harry's magic was protecting him from.

Himself.

* * *

Hey guys. This chapter was a pain to write. It didn't want to be written from Harry's POV, and then it didn't want to be written from Voldemort's. I'll probably come and edit it later to make it flow better. Tell me what you think ^_^

Also, I've got a poll in my profile. Go check it out ^_^


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